


Runaways

by Jettara1



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bullying, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, M/M, Running Away, Sex, assult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 09:09:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28348926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jettara1/pseuds/Jettara1
Summary: AU where Dagur's father, Oswald the Agreeable is still alive.  When Dagur's abuse becomes too much, and no one listens to him, Hiccup takes Toothless and the dragons and flies off.A prank gone wrong leave Fishlegs injured and he too disappears in the middle of the night.Now Dagur is charged with finding Hiccup and Snotlout tags along to find Fishlegs, certain that wherever Meatlug is, Fishlegs is close by.  Neither of them expected it to turn into a three search, and neither of them were prepared for what they find.
Relationships: Dagur the Deranged/Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Fishlegs Ingerman/Snotlout Jorgenson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Scarletdevil66](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Scarletdevil66).



Runaways by Jettara

Commissioned by Scarletdevil66  
(An AU of Twinsanity where Oswald the Agreeable is still alive and Dagur is not yet chief)

“Dad, you can’t be serious,” Hiccup objected as he and Stoick headed toward the harbour. The Berserker flag ship, the pride of their vast fleet and personal vessel of Oswald the Agreeable, was just slipping into one of the finger docks. Hiccup looked up at his father pleadingly. “I get why you want the dragons hidden but I should be with them and keeping them out of trouble, not trying to keep Dagur out of trouble.”

Stoick pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. It was a bad sign, it meant he was quickly losing his patience and Hiccup needed to stop but Hiccup was desperate. 

“You know their just as restless as the riders. If I’m with them, they’ll stay calm and stay hidden. They listen to me. Dagur…Dagur listens to no one, not even his dad. And I don’t think I need to remind you have my near drowning experience last time you had me ‘watch’ after Dagur. Come on, please, Dad? Just let me stay with Toothless. We’ll stay out of sight. It’ll be like we’re not even on the island.” Which was a good idea given who their guests were for the next few days.

Hiccup already had a bad reputation amongst the other tribes for being small and “useless”, why not add to that by simply disappearing during the annual treaty signing? Hiccup could live with that…but apparently Stoick couldn’t.

“One day this will be you and Dagur signing the treaty. The two of you need to learn to get along now in order to avoid future war,” Stoick explained as he had a dozen times over the last two days. He was being surprisingly patient with Hiccup compared to how he used to respond to Hiccup’s objections.

Hiccup scoffed, nonetheless. “And I suppose by then we’ll have told them about the dragons and riders, and everything’ll just be peachy?”

“Son…”

“If that’s the case then why not now?” Hiccup pushed on. “Why not save us all the headache and tell them now? And maybe Toothless can demonstrate with a plasma blast to Dagur’s rear.” He smiled at the thought of Dagur running away holding his scorched rear end.

“And that is exactly why,” his father pointed out. “You’re dislike of Dagur will only rile the dragons up. The dragons are a delicate subject in the Archipelago. It’s bad enough Alvin knows and is after you. Oswald may be our ally, but one wrong move may end in war. We’ll tell him about the dragons…just not right now.”

“Then when?”

“When the time is right.”

Hiccup threw up his hands in defeat. “Fine, but why do I have to deal with Dagur. Why not Snotlout? They like each other…or at least Snotlout likes Dagur, I have no clue if Dagur even knows if Snotlout exists. Or Astrid? Astrid can handle Dagur. She’ll kick his ass if he did anything stupid.”

“You answered your own question.” A small grin pulled at Stoick’s lips at Hiccup’s sudden pout. “Astrid doesn’t have the patience for this.”

“And I do?”

Stoick stopped and turned to face his son, going as far as to get down on one knee to be eye level with him. “You, my boy, train dragons. Berserkers shouldn’t be a problem, not even one as high spirited as Dagur.”

Hiccup folded his arms across his narrow chest and gave a small snort that sounded more like a Terrible Terror sneezing than any sort of indignation. “Dragons at least have a soul and the mental compacity to understand me.”

“Be nice.”

It wasn’t that Hiccup didn’t want to be friends with Dagur it’s just that he had tried to most of his life and for a short time they even were, but that all changed almost seven years ago when Dagur hit puberty and Hiccup, being almost four years younger, didn’t. That was when Dagur wanted to do more dangerous and daring stuff whenever they visited one another, and Hiccup got dragged along whether he wanted to go or not. Usually it resulted in Hiccup getting hurt in one form or another. Nearly drowning last year had been the final straw for Hiccup. He didn’t want anything to do with Dagur. Unfortunately, the fate, as usual, were against him.

He stood up tall, or as tall as he could given his rather limited stature, as his father instructed, and waited as Oswald came across the gangplank to the dock. He was a short man, coming only to Stoick’s shoulder, and built stocky with wide shoulders and black hair with just the barest hint of grey creeping in at the temples. He wore a happy grin as he clasped hands with the Berkian chief.

“Ah…Stoick it’s so good to see you, old friend,” he greeted. His dark green gaze moved to Hiccup and with a grin, he ruffled the youth’s auburn hair. “Have you gotten taller? How old are you now, twelve…thirteen?”

Hiccup bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making a snarky remark. “I turn sixteen this past winter, sir,” he managed. 

He wasn’t that small as far as he was concerned. Sure, his friends were all taller than him, but he still wasn’t that small.

Oswald gave a small laugh. “Ah…yes, yes. Time has escaped me.”

Stoick gave Hiccup a pointed look that clearly said not to make a big deal over it. Hiccup fought to a keep his face neutral and smile at the Berserker chief. It fell the moment Oswald turned away because at that moment Dagur all but stomped across the gangplank, already in a foul mood before they had even begun their little “play date”. This was going to loads of fun. The much larger teen spotted Hiccup almost immediately and went right to him. Hiccup couldn’t quite decipher the look in the other heir’s eyes, but it certainly frightened him. He took an unwitting step back and a childhood urge to hide behind his father filled him, or at the very least yell for Toothless. He fought it down and met Dagur’s gaze.

“Uh…h…hi, Dagur,” he squeaked, his voice taking on a slightly higher pitch than usual.

The older boy said nothing at first, his gaze hard as it met Hiccup’s. He seemed angrier than usual and Hiccup stomach churned in worry. Had the Berserkers heard about Berk’s dragons like the Outcasts had? He bit his lower lip as Dagur took a step a little closer to him.

The sides of Dagur’s mouth lifted in what appeared to be a smile. Hiccup didn’t trust it. “Hiccup,” he said simply. 

The tone was enough to raise the hairs on Hiccup’s arms in fear. 

“Why don’t you boys take a walk through the forest,” Stoick suggested, oblivious to Dagur’s behaviour as he clapped a hand on Oswald’s shoulder in a friendly manner.

The Berserker chief nodded in agreement. “Dagur will catch a wild boar for the feast tonight, won’t you, Dagur?”

The request seemed to be enough to bring Dagur back from whatever maniacal torture he must have been devising for Hiccup. He stepped back from the younger boy with a groan. 

“Fine,” he grumbled in disdain. A moment later the grin returned, and he grabbed Hiccup’s right forearm. “Come on, you can help. Besides, we need to talk.”

Hiccup gave his father one last pleading look before being dragged off by Dagur. He hated this. Dagur always felt he had to drag Hiccup around rather than let him walk. It didn’t help that this time around Hiccup had a prosthetic leg and had enough trouble keeping his balance on a day to day basis without having someone drag him around, not that someone like Dagur would care or notice, at least not until he did fall and Dagur was forced to let him go or drag him across the ground. The Berserker heir let him go and glared at him. Hiccup made it a point to hurriedly get back on his feet. The last thing he needed was Dagur angry because he couldn’t keep up.

“So…uh…what did you want to talk about?” he asked timidly, afraid that he already knew the answer.

Dagur didn’t answer. They kept to the path leading outside the village for another twenty minutes in almost absolute silence. Hiccup wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Usually by now Dagur would have tried scaring him by now or at the very least begun pushing him around trying to “toughen him up”. Instead, he stared straight ahead, intent on wherever they were going. And then he went off the trail and into the thick vegetation. 

Hiccup hesitated behind him. “Uhm…are you sure you want to go in there?” he called after the Berserker. 

Yes, wild boar frequented the area but with how thick the foliage was, the animals had a better chance of attacking a hunter than a hunter had of capturing it.

“Yes,” Dagur snapped. “Get in here.”

“Yeah, but…”

“Stop being such a coward and get over here.”

Hiccup sighed. The gods hated him. Why did he have to be stuck with such a lunatic? Absentmindedly, he wondered if he could simply ditch Dagur in the forest then go get Toothless and take off for the rest of the day. Sure, his dad would get mad, but he’d rather be grounded for the next two lifetimes rather than continue being with Dagur. He slipped into the woods but rather than follow Dagur, headed toward the mountain in the distance. All he had to do was get to Toothless and then…

“Where are you going?” Dagur suddenly asked, appearing before him as if out of nowhere.

“Uh…” Hiccup stumbled, unsure how to answer.

Dagur stared down at him. “You’ve been acting weird…well, weirder than normal,” the Berserker added, his gaze traveling over Hiccup. “Is it because of that?” He pointed to Hiccup’s artificial foot.

Hiccup glanced down at his prosthetic. “Uh…that? Oh…yeah, it’s been…uh…bothering me a lot.”

The older boy gave a curt nod, as if that made sense, but then he was invading Hiccup’s space, causing the younger boy to step back. “I heard about that…your foot. They say you lost it in the battle against the Red Death. They say you killed it.”

Hiccup blinked in surprise. Who could have told Dagur that? How could Dagur possibly know about what happened with the Red Death?

“Me?” he squeaked. He kept backing up as Dagur stalked forward. 

“Yes, you.”

“Dagur, look at me. How could I possibly have taken on the Red Death?” Hiccup argued, but his voice was meek, and he gasped as he backed himself against a tree.

“That’s what I said.” Dagur answered. He placed his hands on either side of Hiccup head, trapping him against the tree. “How could Little Hiccup Haddock take down a dragon the size of a mountain when he can’t even kill a Terrible Terror?”

Hiccup swallowed the lump forming in his throat. 

“So, tell me, Hiccup, why are people making up stories about you?”

Hiccup shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Dagur purred, far too close for Hiccup’s comfort. “How did you lose your leg?”

“A…an accident in the forge?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“I…”

“Just tell me the truth. What happened to your leg? Why are people making up stories about it?”

“I…I don’t know…hey! Stop!” He cried out as Dagur sudden loped the rope he had brought to tied up the boar around his wrists and tied them tightly together. The next thing he knew the other end was thrown over a branch above his head and he was hauled off his feet to dangle at eye level with Dagur. “What…why would you do that?”

Dagur eyed him, his eyes cold. “We’re going to play a game. Every time you lie…I cut you. If you tell the truth…I let you go.”

“Dagur…”

“Let’s start with why you’re so fidgety.”

Hiccup glared at him. “Because you just tied me to a tree, you lunatic.” Perhaps he shouldn’t have snapped like that, but now he was scared and being scared caused him to say things he really shouldn’t.

“Wrong.”

Hiccup let out a surprised gasp as Dagur slashed him across his belly. It was shallow but in strung and soon a small line of blood stained his tunic.

“What the Hel?”

“Keep lying and I’ll keep cutting.”

“Fine, I’m fidgety because I don’t like being with you.”

Dagur’s eyes widened for a moment in mock distress. “Now that hurts, Hiccup. It really does.” And that was followed by another slash, this time to one of Hiccup’s thighs. “Now, tell Dagur all about how you lost your leg.”

Hiccup flexed his fingers. The knot was too tight, and he was losing feeling in his fingers. “In the last dragon raid, okay?” he lied. “The forge got hit and I got pinned. My foot was crushed.”

Dagur got in real close and stared into Hiccup’s eyes. “Why do keep lying?”

“I’m not.”

“Then what type of dragon was it?”

“A…a…” his mind went blank. He could blame it on just about any dragon he wanted but all he could think about was Toothless and wishing his best friend could save him now. “A Night Fury…”

One of Dagur’s brows rose in speculation. “A Night Fury?”

“That’s what I was told. Ow!”

This cut was a little deeper and followed by even more cuts, this time to his arms and stomach, a few to his chest and side. Hiccup was full out crying by the time Dagur stopped. Blood soaked his clothing and dripped onto the ground. None of them were deep or life threatening but they hurt all the same. 

Dagur straightened and admired his handiwork. “Is it dead?”

Hiccup sniffled, lost in a world of pain, and not quite understanding what Dagur was asking him.

Dagur got right in his face again. “Is the Night Fury dead?”

Hiccup shook his head before he could think better of it. “N...no.”

“Good, because I’m going to hunt it down and kill it for you.”

“What? No! Dagur, let me go! When my father finds out about this…uhmph!” 

He should have expected the punch to the gut. It knocked all the air out of him, he sagged against the tree with only the ropes holding him up.

“You’re going to keep your big mouth shut,” Dagur growled in his ear. “Besides, who is Stoick going to believe, me, the son he always wanted, or you, the accident bound, scrawny runt who can’t do anything right? I think the answer speaks for itself. Now shh…dinner has come to us.”

Hiccup whimpered both in pain and fear as Dagur stepped away from him and out of sight while a wild boar slowly made its way toward them, attracted to scent of fresh blood. Hiccup pulled his legs up as best he could, not wanting the creature to go for his remaining foot. The boar sniffed along the ground, slowly edging toward him. Oh great, if Dagur didn’t kill him the boar would, Hiccup thought in despair. Just when it looked like the boar might go for him, Dagur jumped the beast with an animalist war cry and buries his dagger deep into the animal’s back. Hiccup watched in a mix of horror and awe as Dagur fought with the boar until eventually he overpowered it and slit its throat. It died in a pool of its own blood.

Once the boar was dead, Dagur finally untied Hiccup and let him fall to the moist ground. Hiccup stayed where he fell, his body hurting too much to stand right away. Not that Dagur cared. He took the rope and bound the creature to make it easier for transport.

“This is a big guy,” the Berserker chattered, as if nothing had transpired between them. He glanced at Hiccup as he hefted the boar onto one shoulder. “Get up. We need to get back to Berk before your daddy starts worrying about you.”

Hiccup held his side where a particularly deep cut was. It was bleeding much heavier than the rest. “I’ll catch up,” he told the older boy in his most “I’m okay” voice.

Dagur shrugged and headed toward the path. “I wouldn’t stay there long; another boar may come along looking for something to eat…or a toothpick to clean their tusks with.”

Hiccup didn’t bother answering. He watched wearily as Dagur headed back toward the village before wobbly getting to his own feet. Dagur was right, his father was unlikely to believe him, especially now that Dagur had the boar and was covered in blood as well. Stoick to chalk it up to them trying to catch the boar. He might even congratulate them, but he wouldn’t believe Dagur had purposely hurt him. He never did in the past. Even with their relationship being much better now than it had been before, he could count of his father to defend him, not against Dagur.

Anger and frustration led Hiccup to go in the opposite direction of Dagur. Now that the Berserker had what he wanted, he wouldn’t care where Hiccup went, so Hiccup went to the one place he knew he was safe. He went to the dragons. It was a long trek toward the mountain range where he and the other riders hid their dragons. His body hurt and there were times he feared wild animals may mistake him for an easy meal. He washed his wounds in a stream and did his best to wrap them with strips from his tunic. By the time he made it to the cave were the dragons were safely hidden, he was never so happy to see the five dragons. Toothless gave a concerned warble when he saw Hiccup in the cave entrance, but Hiccup didn’t have the energy to say anything to his Night Fury. He collapsed, light-headed from blood loss and legs too weak to take another step. He fully broke down as his dragon came to him and he hugged Toothless tightly.

“I’m done,” he sobbed into cold black scales. “I’m done, Toothless. We need to leave Berk.” When Toothless warbled a question, Hiccup shook his head. “No…we’re not coming back.”

It took a moment for him to get his legs under him once more and even longer to pull himself onto the saddle on Toothless’s back. He was thankful he had left the saddle and artificial tail fin on his friend otherwise he would have had to go back to the village and sneak it out, something he doubted he could do in his present condition. Toothless ran out of the cave and took to the air. The cool wind in Hiccup’s face eased some of the pain that filled him, but he was taken by surprise when he heard the flapping of more wings and calls of the other dragons. Looking back, he found the other four following him and Toothless, but he didn’t tell Toothless to stop, didn’t try to tell the others to go back. All he wanted was to escape Berk and never look back.


	2. Chapter 2

Runaway  
Chapter 2

It wasn’t fair, Snotlout thought miserably as he and the twins wandered through the town plaza. They had been searching for Hiccup with the intent on pranking him. It would have been the perfect timing for it. Dagur was here and the Berserker was always up for pranking Hiccup, even if Dagur was more physical toward the Berkian heir than the rest of them, and Snotlout enjoyed showing just how much he could terrorize the smaller boy as well. He and Hiccup may be cousins and even dragon riders together, but that didn’t mean he had to stop tormenting him it just meant he had to go about it a little differently in order to not give up Berk’s secrets. And no serious harm ever came to Hiccup, just a really good scare and a few days of Hiccup avoiding everyone at all cost, which was a bonus because he didn’t create anything that had the potential to explode for those days. It would have been epic, and maybe Dagur would finally notice him and want to be friends.

But alas, neither Hiccup nor Dagur could be found. 

“This is boring,” Ruffnut whined.

They passed by the forge for the third or perhaps forth time in hopes that Hiccup had ducked tail and returned to the blacksmith shop to hide from Dagur as he normally did.

“I thought you said they’d be back by now,” she pressed. She folded her arms across her chest as she tried to peer past Gobber toward the small makeshift workroom Hiccup had in the back.

“No, I said Hiccup should have been running back to town by now,” Snotlout argued. “Obviously, he either finally developed a backbone or Dagur dragged him off somewhere further than usual.”

That got Gobber’s attention and the blacksmith paused what he was doing to glare at the teenagers. All three quickly moved passed the forge and out of the very real danger of Gobber throwing something heavy and sharp at them. Joking about Hiccup around Gobber was not ideal. The blacksmith had an overly soft spot for his young apprentice and served as almost a second father toward him.

“Okay, so if Hiccup isn’t here now what?” Tuffnut asked as they headed toward the pier. “We only have a few hours before they have the banquet and then our chance is gone for today. And the Berserkers usually leave by sunrise so…”

Snotlout shrugged. He was out of ideas. If Hiccup and Dagur were in the woods it would take forever to locate them and by then the prank wouldn’t be worth the trouble. That was making him angry. Why was it every time he had a good prank in mind for his younger cousin, Hiccup simply disappeared? And he couldn’t even blame Toothless, the Night Fury, like all the other dangers, was hidden in the caves of the far south mountain. He suddenly stopped short as an idea hit him.

“Why don’t we stage a dragon attack?” he suddenly declared.

The twins stopped and turned back to him. “What?” Tuffnut asked in surprise.

“Are you crazy?” Ruffnut added. “Stoick would kill us.”

“Not if he doesn’t think it’s us,” Snotlout explained. “We can blame Hiccup and then spend the rest of the day ‘hunting’ our dragons and get them back to the cave. Or better yet, off the island for a few hours of flying.”

The twins looked at one another then back at Snotlout with a grin. 

“That, my man,” Tuffnut began.

“Is awesome,” his sister finished.

“No, it’s not,” another voice piped in.

The three turned to see Fishlegs standing behind them, his face creased in worry as usual. 

“If the dragons got out then you’ll not only have to worry about Stoick punishing you but also the Berserkers trying to hunt down our dragons. Are you really willing to risk your dragons getting killed just because you’re bored?”

The three exchanged a look that clearly said they thought Fishlegs was over worrying and the larger youth sighed in annoyance.

“You’re going up there anyway, aren’t you?” he asked in a resigned voice.

“Better than staying here, Fish-face,” Snotlout told him. 

Not waiting for an answer, he headed toward the edge of the village. Ruffnut and Tuffnut shared a laughed between them before dashing off after Snotlout. Fishlegs sighed. Of course, the three wouldn’t listen to him. They never do. But he couldn’t let them create a fake dragon attack, it was too dangerous for their dragons. Not only that, those three were the worse actors in all the Archipelago. If Oswald the Agreeable learned they were training dragons it could cause war and get a lot of people killed. And that would only cause more trouble between Dagur and Hiccup, and they didn’t have the best relationship going already, there was no need to make it worse. So, he followed after the troublesome trio in hopes of deterring them from causing more mayhem than usual.

They took one of the many trails that led to the south end of the island. Snotlout secretly hoped to find Hiccup and Dagur along the way and go with his initial plan to prank Hiccup, but they must have taken another path. The twins chattering back and forth about the chaos their dragon could cause during a fake attack and how much the surprised Berserkers would scream and run about in fright, but they managed to keep their voices low enough in case any Berserkers were wandering about the woods. Even though the other tribe had set up camp near on the other side of town near the docks, it wasn’t unusual to see a few in the woods hunting for the night’s dinner, so it was best not to let any of them overhear about the dragons. To be certain they weren’t found out or followed, Fishlegs kept an eye on their surroundings.

The trek across the island felt as if it took forever. Berk wasn’t exactly large but having to through valleys and around hill and mountains took time and by the time they reached the cave that their dragons were presently housed in, all four youths were exhausted and sorely missing the ease and speed that came with flying their winged friends. The five Berkian riding dragons, a handful of wild ones and an assortment of Terrible Terrors all seemed happy to see them. They began warbling happily, and despite their exhaustion, the four riders happily went to greet each one.

“You’ve got to admit, this is better than hanging around town,” Ruffnut said as she snuggled against Barf while her brother was on the other side of the Zippleback snuggling Belch.

Fishlegs nodded. He could admit that. He scratched the underside of Meatlug while his dragon wiggled about in excitement of her riding finally being with her. If it weren’t for the Berserkers visiting, he would have brought his girl snacks. Thankfully, the dragons had all been well fed beforehand and would be alright for another day or two. The mountain was close enough to the sea for the dragons to slip out at night and hunt without being easily seen.

He felt bad for Toothless and Stormfly who were looking about, expecting their riders to arrive at any moment. “Sorry, guys,” he told them. “Hiccup and Astrid are busy. They’ll come later, okay?”

Toothless tilted his head to one side as if to ask why while Stormfly clucked disgruntled and curled into a ball to sleep. That looked like a good idea after such a long walk. He leaned against Meatlug and it wasn’t long before he and his dragon dosed off. That may not have been the best idea.

Fishlegs woke to the sound of the twins giggling as Snotlout stood over him. That in itself was nothing unusual, the trio were always teasing him or tormenting him in some way, what was a little disconcerting was that Snotlout had taken his helmet and was eying it in such a way that a know suddenly formed in Fishlegs’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Meatlug.

“Just wondering if Meatlug sleep eats like you do,” Snotlout replied, but it did not answer why he had taken Fishlegs’s helmet.

Fishlegs frowned at him. “I don’t ‘sleep eat’, my mother got me checked for that,” he objected. It took a moment more for it to dawn on him what Snotlout was planning to do, but it wasn’t until Snotlout actually placed Fishlegs’s helmet inside Meatlug’s open maw that it truly kicked in. “No! My Dad made that for me!” It came out as more of a whine than an objection. He rolled onto his knees and peered at his dragon’s open mouth. It wasn’t that far it but the Gronkle was already unconsciously licking at it. “Snotlout, why would you do that? It’ll make her tummy all upset.” He reached for it, hoping not to startle his dragon.

Snotlout rolled his eyes. “It’s not as if we can’t make another one.”

“Or we can just wait until she poops it out to give it back to you,” Tuffnut teased.

His sister gave him a disgusted look. “Ew.”

Fishlegs rolled his eyes at their antics, but he wasn’t about to let his dragon get sick. Sure, Gronkles could eat iron without it hurting them but his helmet had sharp edges and little horns adorning it that could hurt Meatlug’s insides if she swallowed it without properly chewing, which she tended to do while sleeping, not that he was going to point that out to these mutton heads.

Snotlout gave a groan as Fishlegs’s carefully reaches inside Meatlug’s mouth for his helmet. “Would you hurry up already? I want to get these bad boys ready for flying.” He thumps a hand none too gently on Fishlegs’s right shoulder. It sets off a chain reaction none of them were exciting.

Snotlout’s sudden thump to Fishlegs’s shoulder caused the larger youth to jump in surprise as he grabbed the edge of his helmet, which caused his arm to jerk and the helmet to hit to roof of Meatlug’s mouth, startling the Gronkle awake. Thinking he had a small boulder in his mouth that was trying to escape, the dragon clapped her jaw shut which led to a sudden and agonizing snap as her teeth came down on Fishlegs’s forearm. 

Shock filled Fishlegs before the pain did. He gave a cry at the sudden searing pain and tried to pull his arms free but that caused Meatlug to jump to her feet in fear and pull her rider along with her.

“Whoa!” Ruffnut shouted in surprise while her brother and Snotlout rushed to Fishlegs’s side. She raised both hands before Meatlug, unsure what to do but know she needed to help. “Easy, girl, easy…” she tried. She hesitated a moment, watching in a mix of horror and fascination as the boys tried to free Fishlegs’s arm. “Meatlug, drop!” she ordered, pointing toward the ground.

The dragon stared at her blankly for a moment before seemingly realizing that what she was holding was not food but her rider. She let go of Fishlegs and spit out his helmet before giving a small distraught whine. 

Fishlegs sat on the ground cradling his right arm. It looked badly mangled and most likely broken, but surprisingly, Meatlug had not broken skin. Nonetheless, Fishlegs was hyperventilating, the shock and pain hitting him in full.

“Fishlegs, look at me,” Ruffnut said, kneeling in front of him. She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Hey, look at me.” When he finally did, she took a deep breath. “I think your arm’s broken. We need to get you to Gothi.”

He stared at her for a long moment before blinking and looking toward Tuffnut and Snotlout. Tuffnut looked pale and scared while Snotlout looked utterly guilty and unsure what to do.

“Y…yeah,” he agreed, looking back at Ruffnut.

She gave a curt nod, taking charge of the group. Going to his left side, she helped him to his feet. “Tuff, take his other side,” she instructed her brother as she struggle to get Fishlegs up. “This is going to be a long walk.”

Snotlout could simply watch as the twins worked in unison to get Fishlegs moving toward the entrance of the cave. He glanced toward Meatlug who watched to proceedings in fear then at the helmet that lay discarded on the ground.

“He’ll…he’ll be okay,” he promised the Gronkle. Not sure what else to say or do, he picked up the helmet and hurried after his friends.

. . . 

The trek to Gothi’s was even worse than going to the mountain. The path to her hut was narrow and could only properly support one person at a time. Ruffnut used her skirt as a makeshift sling to help keep Fishlegs’s arm lifted and supported, leaving her in her leggings and tunic, while her vest served as wrapping to keep his arm as straight as possible until Gothi was able to set it. She was fairly sure the break was in his forearm since it looked to be twisted at an odd angle. She stayed him to make sure he got to the healer safely, while also cursing out Snotlout for his stupidity, as well as her own for not seeing or caring just how dangerous of a situation they had put their friend in. They had spent the entire way there apologizing for it, but it didn’t change the fact of what had happened or how much worse it could have been. Tuffnut had gone to get Mrs. Ingerman while Snotlout all but glued himself to Fishlegs, mumbling apologies and how it was all supposed to be a joke. Fishlegs was still more in shock than angry, and he had every right to be angry at Snotlout, but he only nodded at Snotlout’s words and said nothing in response.

Once they were Gothi’s, they got Fishlegs settled on a cot before the healer ushered them outside and told them to wait. That was all either of them could do while they waited for Tuffnut to arrive with Fishlegs’s mother. Neither of them knew of the chaos brewing in the village below.

. . .

When Dagur returned to Berk, he didn’t think it was just him and the boar he had killed. He had thought Hiccup was right behind him, not fool enough to take off on his own, and to complacent to talk back or tell anyone what had happened in the woods. In fact, Dagur had been chatting away to him the whole trek home, or so he thought and would have continued thinking had the young blonde shield maiden not suddenly shown up just outside Mead Hall.

“Where’s Hiccup?” Astrid asked. 

Dagur raised a brow and glanced behind him. “Uh…” 

Hiccup wasn’t behind him. He was no where in sight.

“He was right behind me,” he assured the girl

Astrid placed her hands on her hips. “You lost him?”

“No!”

“Then, where is he? Where did you last see him?”

He shrugged. Why should he care? This was Hiccup’s island; he knew his way around. But the girl obviously didn’t think so. Her blue eyes were cold as she glanced at the boar.

“Did he help you catch that?”

Dagur shrugged. “In a manner of speaking. Look, I don’t know where your precious Hiccup is. He must have fallen behind on the way back. He only has one leg.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yeah, and he’s still new to it. He’s not used to walking long distances.”

He pushed past her and into the Mead Hall. “Not my problem,” he pointed out. He dumped the boar on the preparation table for the cooks before turning back to her. “And when did you start caring? Didn’t you used to always avoid him?”

Her lips pressed into a fine line. “Things change. Where did you last see him?”

With a sigh, Dagur rolled his eyes. “Fine, I’ll show you,” he said. 

This could actually work in his favor. One boar really wasn’t enough for a banquet. Perhaps he could catch a second one. If Hiccup were still bleeding, he could be used as bait again. He froze as he took a moment to process that thought. If Hiccup were still bleeding and got tripped up, then he could have been attacked by a boar or wolf or even a dragon if he fell too far behind. While he enjoyed tormenting the younger boy, he didn’t want him killed. If that happened, he would be blamed.

Astrid glanced toward the sun slowing moving toward the horizon. “It’s going to be dark soon. I’ll get Stoick. We’ll need a search party to find him.”

“Seriously?” Dagur objected, surprised by the amount of concern Astrid was displaying for Hiccup. “He knows those woods like the back of his hand. He’s probably just mad at me for making him bait and taking his sweet time coming back.”

“Yeah, but if he’s having cramps or trouble with the prosthetic, he might need help,” she argued. She paused as she processed what he just said. “Wait…you did what to him?”

Dagur floundered for words. Did he just admit to using Hiccup as bait? Yeah…yeah, he did. Fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

Runaways 3

Dagur was growing increasingly annoyed as he made the trek back to where he caught the boar. The blonde girl never left him, not even for a moment, and that was annoying in itself, but what was worse was that they had yet to come across Hiccup on any sign of him.

“Are you sure you went this way?” Astrid asked for the second or third time.

Her voice grated on his nerves, but the question was relevant, and he was beginning to ask himself the same thing. They were on the right path, but everything was beginning to look the same and he was wondering if perhaps he and Hiccup went off it sooner than he thought. If that were the case, they could have passed by him without realizing it. But then why wouldn’t Hiccup call out to them? Was he more hurt than Dagur realized? Dagur shoved that thought aside. Hiccup was fine. The cuts Dagur had given him were shallow. They may sting but they weren’t life threatening. But what if…

“UH! This is ridiculous!” he snapped. He refused to let his mind delve into something actually being wrong with the Berkian heir. Hiccup always made a big deal out of nothing. He always made things seem worse than they really were. He was hiding and trying to get Dagur in trouble again. “Hiccup, get your scrawny ass out here before I give you a real beating!” he bellowed into the woods.

Thawk!

He gave a yelp, not expecting to be whacked over the head by flat side of Astrid’s axe. He jumped out of range and spun around to face her. “What was that for?”

Her gaze was hard as steel. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on him,” she snarled. She looked every bit a shield maiden ready to take his head. Her eyes narrowed and hands flexed around the hilt of her axe. 

“Fine.” He cursed under his breath as he rubbed the back of his head. His helmet saved him from serious injury, but it wouldn’t save him if she decided to take his head off, and she looked to be experienced with the axe. He could admire that. “He’s obviously not here. We must have been further up the path.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded and gestured with her axe to continue.

For a while they continued walking in silence but there was still no sign of Hiccup and it was becoming evident that something had to be wrong. Dagur’s annoyance began to turn to worry. What if he had cut Hiccup deeper than he thought? What if a wild animal happened upon him? Another boar, a wolf, a bear, a dragon? What if he lost too much blood and collapsed unable to call for help? What if they passed him already? Dagur couldn’t tell where they were anymore. 

His stomach knotted in a weird way and his throat felt dry. What was this feeling? He had only felt it once before, when his little sister, Heather, floated off to sea on the raft he made her. Was this anxiety of getting in trouble or guilt? He never could tell between the two. Nonetheless, it continued to get worse the further they went. He decided not to look for familiar markers and instead follow his tracks. It was easy to make out Hiccup’s, his prosthetic left a distinct impression in the soil. He knelt down to inspect it, taking more of an interest now that he knew he could track Hiccup this way. He tilted his head as he inspected the print. It was small and narrow like Hiccup but not quite a pegleg. The decide was more intricate. He should have taken more time to actually inspect the leg itself when he had Hiccup.

Tracking their earlier footprints led them back to the hunting site much faster than they had been moving previously. Dagur was almost relived when he dashed into the forest, half expecting to find Hiccup sitting on the ground crying, instead he found the puddle of blood from the slain boar and a small, bloodied handprint on the tree he had tied Hiccup to, but there was no sign of the Berkian heir.

“He was here,” Dagur assured as Astrid came up next to him. “He was right here.”

She didn’t answer. Her eyes were wide as she stared at their surroundings.

“I told him not to stay here. I warned him that another boar might come across him and kill him,” he continued. 

He looked around, hoping to see Hiccup somewhere in the woods but there was nothing, not even drag marks. That knot in his stomach tightened, making him feel sick and a little lightheaded. If something bad happened to Hiccup his father, or worse, Stoick, was going to kill him. He knew the stories about Stoick the Vast and how he was once known as Stoick the Vengeful. He knew Stoick wasn’t beyond beheading someone should something horrid befall his only child. Dagur picked on Hiccup to toughen him up, but this…this may have been going too far.

Without thinking, he dropped to his knees and began searching for Hiccup’s tracks. It took several long, agonizing seconds, but he found them, and they were not heading back to the path.

“That way,” he told Astrid, pointing toward the south.

The girl didn’t wait for him. She dashed off in that direction while calling Hiccup’s name. Dagur quickly followed after her. They didn’t only have footprints to follow now but also bloody handprints that appeared on trees now and then, as if Hiccup were using them for support. Dagur was sure they would find him now. 

And then the trail stopped. It completely stopped as they approached a rock range. That should have been expected as prints didn’t stay well on rocky surfaces but that wasn’t what ended their search…it when they found the last handprint that seemed to indicate Hiccup had fallen or tripped, followed by a sizeable pool of blood. Dagur looked all around once more, hoping to spot the younger boy but it was no use.

He didn’t get much time to think about it. One moment he was staring out toward the mountain above them, pondering if Hiccup was fool enough to attempt hiding in one of the caves, the next he was pinned against a tree with an axe to his throat.

“What did you do?” Astrid demanded. “Why is he bleeding, Dagur? What did you do to him THIS time?”

“Nothing!” 

He yelped in surprise as the blade bit into his skin. He knew she wouldn’t kill him, it would mean an automatic death sentence for her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t maim him and risk jail time for her future chief. And judging by the fire in her azure eyes, she may just kill him for Hiccup as well, something she never would have done a year prior. Something had changed in the last year on Berk but Dagur couldn’t put his finger on it and may never get the chance to as things were.

She looked from him up to the mountain, her face hardening into an angry mask. There was something in that gaze that he couldn’t quite understand and didn’t dare ask as she pushed him away. 

“Stay put,” she ordered. 

The threat of not doing as she said was very real and for once, Dagur found himself listening. He waited as she climbed up a narrow path leading far up onto the mountain and stayed there until she came back. The look on her face when she returned was confusion mixed with fear. She didn’t say anything to Dagur, just shoved him onto a path and back toward the village.

Once they reached the village, Astrid tracked down Stoick and brought Dagur to him and Oswald and that was when real fear hit Dagur.

“Hiccup’s missing,” Astrid reported, her voice surprisingly stead despite her anger.

Stoick looked from Astrid to Dagur in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Dagur pivoted from one foot to the other, unable to meet either Stoick’s or his father’s gaze. “I lost him,” he tried, deciding it best not to go into detail about who he used Hiccup to capture the boar.

Astrid’s hands knotted into fists. “There was blood. Hiccup must be badly hurt. It looked like he was headed to the cave…” she hesitated a moment. “To see Toothless, but when I got there it was empty.”

The way she phrased it seemed odd and Dagur couldn’t help but look at her in confusion. Who was Toothless and why would Hiccup go to a person in a cave for help? He would have asked but Stoick was already talking.

“Find Gobber and get a search team together. Hiccup wouldn’t have gone far with Toothless if he needs medical helps,” the Hooligan chief said.

“Who’s Toothless?” Dagur demanded, growing anxious and concerned as well.

They ignored him.

Astrid nodded and ran off to do as her chief demanded, leaving Dagur with the two chieftains and becoming increasingly confused.

“Is Toothless some old guys who lives in the mountain?” he questioned, looking to Stoick for answers.

Stoick frowned at him. “No. He’s a friend of Hiccup’s. You better tell me exactly what happened, son.”

There was a threat in there and Dagur felt compelled to tell Stoick everything. He didn’t want to but once he began talking, he couldn’t stop, and that didn’t help him in the slightest. With every word that came out of his mouth, Stoick’s anger at him grew.

“You did what?” Stoick bellowed, grabbing Dagur by the throat and lifting him off his feet.

“Stoick!” Oswald cried. He grasped Stoick’s arm that held Dagur. “He’s just a boy!”

“Hiccup’s a boy. Dagur’s eighteen, he should know better,” Stoick retorted. His fingers tightened around Dagur’s throat, threatening to crush his windpipe if he didn’t snap his neck first. Then, thinking better of it, he threw Dagur to Spitelout. “Throw him in a cell then join Gobber and Astrid to find my son.”

“Dad!” Dagur called pleadingly to Oswald as Spitelout and another man grabbed him.

Oswald stared at his son for a moment or two then shook his head. “You best hope they find him alive, Dagur,” he told the youth. He turned his back on the young man as Dagur was dragged away.

. . .

Snotlout was pacing outside Gothi’s hut as he waited for news on Fishlegs’s condition. The twins had gone to help Astrid search for Hiccup. He planned to join them but not until he knew for certain Fishlegs’s was going to be okay. He felt guilty for what happened. He shouldn’t have placed the helmet in Meatlug’s mouth, and he definitely shouldn’t have startled Fishlegs the way he did. Guilt ate at him but there was nothing he could do about what happened, all he could do was apologize and hope Fishlegs forgave him and had it to the list of pranks not to do to any of his friends ever again. He only prayed that there was no lasting damage.

He stopped pacing as Mrs. Ingerman stepped out of the hut. She was a large woman like her son, with greying blonde hair held back in a thick braid and soft blue eyes that held a worried gleam at the moment.

“How is he?” he asked.

She frowned at him for a moment before sighing softly. “His arm is broken in two places and he lost a lot of blood where the bone broke through skin. We’re just lucky Meatlug didn’t go feral when she tasted it…if she tasted it. It could have been a lot worse.”

Snotlout hadn’t thought of that. If Meatlug had been hungry and went feral after tasting blood, she could have killed Fishlegs without meaning to or even realizing it was her rider until it was too late. His stomach bottomed out at the mere thought of how much worse it could have been. “I’m so sorry. I was such an idiot. I didn’t even think about that. I…I’m sorry.”

Her gaze was hard for a moment before softening. “I hope you’ve learned your lesson. We may be friends with the dragons, but they are still animals and instinct will win over friendship.”

He nodded in agreement. “Can I see him?”

“No,” she answered with a shake of her head. “He passed out. A mix of the pain and blood loss. Gothi’s giving him something for the pain but he’ll likely sleep most of the night. Perhaps in the morning.”

“Alright.”

“You should help the others search for Hiccup. Word has it he may be injured as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Gothi’s going to be joining as well. Perhaps stay with her.”

He groaned softly but agreed. He hated being saddled with Gothi, but right now he wasn’t going to argue. He was simply grateful Fishlegs would recover.

No one noticed Meatlug lurking in the deep shadows of the forest as the daylight sun began to wan into night. Her yellow eyes stared at the little hut longingly, waiting for her moment to finally retrieve her rider.

. . .

The search lasted into the wee hours of the morning with no sign of Hiccup found anywhere. Stoick’s worry grew with every passing second as he waited, hoping Hiccup would return on his own. Hel, he would even be happy if he came in riding Toothless. Yes, he would have to explain to Oswald why his son was riding a dragon and why said dragon was welcomed by the tribe, but at this point he no longer cared. Let Oswald get angry about Berk befriending dragons. Let the Berserker declare war on Berk. All Stoick cared about was his son. He waited and prayed and waited some more but Hiccup didn’t appear and there was no sign of Toothless or any other dragon.

He was about to give up hope when the grand doors of Mead Hall were suddenly pushed open. One of the search teams burst in and there was a great deal of commotion. Hope filled Stoick as he descended the dais to greet them, fully expecting Hiccup to be among them, either walking on his own manpower or carried in by one of the searchers. He wasn’t prepared for what they gave him.

“We didn’t find him,” Gobber announced before Stoick could even ask. “But we did find something.”

Stoick’s knees felt weak as his best friend, Hiccup’s mentor, handed him a tattered and bloodied tunic and fur vest.

“We found these not far from where Dagur said he left Hiccup,” Gobber explained.

The clothing was torn and not just by slashes of a knife but by an animal of some sort. Stoick swallowed the lump in his throat. “And the dragons?”

“Gone. All of them. If he made it to the cave, they either took him or…”

Stoick shook his head, unwilling to accept what Gobber was implying. They had been friends with the dragons too long to believe any of them would harm Hiccup. “Toothless would have brought him to me.”

“But he didn’t,” Gobber pointed out. “Which means either he couldn’t, or Hiccup told him not to. It also means he may still be out there but not on Berk.”

“We have another problem,” Mrs. Ingerman announced as she walked into the hall. There was a mix of anger and worry in her voice as she strolled up to her chief. “Fishlegs has gone missing as well.”

Stoick stared at her in shock. That made no sense. Why would Fishlegs have gone missing? He was injured and unconscious at Gothi’s. Unless the dragons retrieved him to help Hiccup, but why would they not bring Hiccup home? Why was he, and now Fishlegs, in hiding? It made little sense and the more he thought about it the more worried and angrier he got. It was time to call a council meeting and decide how to proceed from here, and what to do about Dagur’s part in all this.


	4. Chapter 4

Runaways 4

Fishlegs was a little confused when Meatlug burst into Gothi’s hut. She knew she wasn’t supposed to be in the village while the Berserkers were there but evidently that didn’t stop her from all but dragging Fishlegs from the hut and off into the night sky. It was only by instinct that Fishlegs grabbed one of Gothi’s pre-packed medical bags on the way out, knowing something was wrong. Meatlug didn’t even give him enough time to climb onto her saddle. Fishlegs was certain more wrong than his dragon worrying about his broken arm for her to be acting this way, or for her to be hurrying off the island in such a rush with him. Normally, if he were hurt, she would simply cuddle him and try to make it better, but this, this was something else entirely. That realization proved true when they landed twenty minutes later on a small island west of Berk where it seemed all of their dragons were gathered around a small, prone form that appeared the be shaking and cold.

“Hiccup!” he gasped. 

The moment his feet touched the ground he ran to his friend. His balance was off due to the sling holding up his broken arm, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was getting to Hiccup.

Hiccup was curled into a small pitiful ball, covered in cuts that ranged from small to large but had no doubt bled quite a bit. He was shaking and looked to be in shock as well as extremely cold. All he wore were his trousers, boot, and prosthetic which was not enough clothing in the harsh Northern Archipelago, even in the warmer months. His tunic and vest were missing and judging by his injuries, probably covered in blood, and ditched to keep wild animals from tracking him too easily. But that didn’t explain why Hiccup was cut up so bad.

The dragons were fussing over him but Toothless kept them at bay, no doubt worried what may happen if one of them tried cleaning his human. It wouldn’t take much for an animal to be triggered by the taste of blood and go wild, regardless of their good intentions. But when the Night Fury saw Fishlegs, he cooed softly and gestured for the dragons to give the human room. 

“Hiccup…Hiccup, can you hear me?” Fishlegs asked as he gently touched Hiccup’s shoulder.

The much smaller boy whimpered softly. “Fishlegs?” he mumbled. His teeth were chattering.

“Yeah, it’s me. What happened?”

Hiccup mumbled something incoherent before the shakes took him again.

This wasn’t good. “Meatlug, Barf, Belch, find wood,” Fishlegs ordered the dragons. 

A sense of authority took him as he took in the situation. Hiccup was still bleeding. It wasn’t a lot but Fishlegs was unsure how much he had already lost. A lot of the cuts would require stitching which was going to be problematic since he only had one arm to use right now, the other was in a sling. Nevertheless, Hiccup needed to be treated immediately. Thankfully, Toothless had his saddle and saddlebags which were left in the cave with the dragons in case of emergency. That meant Hiccup must have somehow got them on him. They also had limited supplies, but they were enough for what Fishlegs needed right that moment. He pulled out a thin wool blanket from one bad and a small canteen of water. He wrapped Hiccup in the blanket, creating almost a cocoon of sorts in hopes of preserving what body heat Hiccup had left while they waited for the dragons to gather wood. When they returned, he arranged the wood into a small pile then had Hookfang light it.

“N…no…” Hiccup breathed. “They’ll see.”

“Who?” Fishlegs asked. 

He pulled Hiccup against him in hopes of warming him up further and rubbed warmth into his arms. 

“My Dad.”

“That’s a good thing.”

Hiccup shook his head. “No…he’ll be mad and take me back and then Dagur…”

“Did Dagur hurt you? Did he do this to you?”

A small nod was all he got.

“No one’s going to see the fire through the trees, and if they do, we’ll be gone before they get here,” Fishlegs assured. “All the dragons are here; they’ll have to use the boats.”

He didn’t know why he said it but if Hiccup didn’t want to be found right away or was hiding because Dagur hurt him, then he was willing to help his friend any way he could. Right now, that meant getting heat into his tiny frame then treating his wounds. He just wasn’t sure where they could possibly hide that the other riders didn’t already know about. Even without Stormfly, Astrid knew every island they had visited and all their hiding spots. It may take a few days, but she’d find them in the end. She was good at that. But that was something they could figure out later. For now, his focus was on making sure Hiccup was okay. They could decide what to do after that.

. . .

This was not the way Stoick wanted to tell Oswald about Hiccup’s unique gift with dragons. Hel, he wanted to avoid the dragon situation all together but with the riders in a panic and searching the entire island for their missing dragons, and the twins cornering every person they came in contact with and demanding if they saw Barf and Belch, he no longer had a choice. The reason he didn’t want to discuss the dragon situation wasn’t because he felt any shame in it or that he wasn’t proud of Hiccup for his gifts, it was because of the fear he knew many of the other chiefs would have of him if they thought for even a moment the dragons might be used as weapons. Stoick had chosen not to tell Hiccup this because the boy would have made it his sole mission to try any make every tribe in the Archipelago befriend dragons. Many were not ready for that. Many, like Oswald, still had wounds too fresh to heal after the last person who could control dragons nearly destroyed his tribe and tore apart his family. He had lost his father and elder brother and was thrown into the role of chief with little knowledge of how and a young wife pregnant with their second child. Oswald had sworn vengeance and had made the rest of the surviving chieftains, including Stoick, outlaw the training of dragons. Stoick had broken that pack by allowing Hiccup and his friends to train their dragons.

Now he sat with Oswald and explain everything that had happened, how Hiccup had befriended Toothless, trained the other dragons, and defeated the Red Death with his friends. He took his time and let Oswald interrupt and ask the questions he needed. He waited patiently as the other man fumed and yelled before settling and asking more questions. As someone who had lost people to dragons in the past, Stoick understood Oswald’s rage. He had felt it himself when he first learned what Hiccup had been doing with Toothless, but unlike him, Oswald calmed down much faster, as if everything with the dragons was bound to happen one day.

“So, you believe Hiccup is with this Toothless and the other dragons are likely guarding them?” Oswald asked.

“He has a way with them,” Stoick confirmed. “They follow Hiccup better than their own riders and will protect them with their lives.”

“But why leave Berk?”

Stoick shook his head. He didn’t know. Nor did he understand why Hiccup didn’t come back to the village for help if he was injured, or why Fishlegs was missing as well. He knew the Ingerman boy would be close to Hiccup. The two was best friends. No doubt he was the one caring for Hiccup, but it still didn’t explain why they left Berk. He had ships searching the nearby islands in hopes they had simply gone to one to get away for a bit. He should have told Hiccup to do that from the beginning, but his pride had prevented him from doing so. He wanted Hiccup to learn what it meant to be a chief and learn diplomacy. He should have known by know that Dagur would not do the same.

Oswald stayed on Berk for a week while his son was in prison. He refused to leave without his boy and Stoick refused to release Dagur until they found Hiccup. But as the days passed, it became more and more unlikely that Hiccup or Fishlegs would return. Search parties, both Hooligan and Berserker searched the nearby islands, as far off as Dragon Island and even Outcast Island, fearing that Alvin the Treacherous may have captured them. There was no sign of the boys. No sign of their dragons. It was as if they had fallen off the edge of the Earth.

Days turned to weeks and Stoick finally had to come to terms that Hiccup was not coming back. Despair turned to anger and then to rage. That rage led to Dagur being dragged out of his cell for trial. In Stoick’s mind there was only one of two reasons Hiccup had not come home: because he couldn’t or because he was dead. Either way, it was Dagur’s doing and he would pay for it with his life.

The Berserker heir was presented before the council. Stoick sat in his thrown, his normally vibrant green gaze dark. Oswald stood a short distance away, there to advocate for his son’s life. Fishlegs’s mother stood at the front of the crowd, unsure what to do about her own missing child.

“Dagur Oswalson, you stand accused of the disappearance and possible murder of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock,” Gobber announced, holding a scroll formally. “How say you?”

Dagur looked around the room frantically. “I didn’t kill him. We were hunting and…”

“And what did you use as bait?” Gobber asked. His voice was slightly tight, already knowing the answer, but he manager to keep it from faltering too much.

Dagur’s mouth ran dry. “I…”

“Is it or is it not true that you used Hiccup as bait to catch the boar?”

The youth couldn’t answer, instead he looked to his father. Oswald scowled at him but there was worry in his eyes. “Tell the truth, Dagur,” he told him.

With a sigh, Dagur nodded. “Yes.”

“You drew his blood in order to draw the boar to you?” Gobber proceeded.

Dagur took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Is it not also true that you left him behind, not bothering to tend to his injuries or ensure he returned to the village with you?”

“I thought he was right behind me,” Dagur objected.

“Did you check?”

“No.”

Gobber nodded. “In fact, you didn’t even think twice about him until Astrid Hofferson addressed you about him.”

“No,” Dagur admitted.

“So, you didn’t care whether he was alive or dead.”

“I thought he was behind me! If I knew he was really hurt, I would have carried him back myself. He said he was fine, so I brought the boar to town. He said he was fine!” He was growing frantic and pulled at the ropes binding his wrists. Why was no one listening to him?

“Your father and I have discussed your punishment,” Stoick began.

Dagur looked to him in desperation. 

“You can be executed for your negligence and endangerment of a fellow heir, or…”

Dagur would do anything to avoid death. He knew the stories of Stoick and how he was during war times. He knew Stoick was once known as Stoick the Vengeful. If he intended Dagur to die it would not be quick. He would make an example of Dagur by having him endure what Hiccup had, except he wouldn’t untie Dagur, he’d let the animals have him.

“You will be exiled until you find and bring Hiccup home,” his father finished for Stoick.

Dagur stared at the two chieftains in confusion. “Exiled?” he breathed in disbelief.

His father nodded. “You will be given a small ship and crew and tasked with searching the entire Archipelago for Hiccup. If you do not find him, you will travel beyond and continue your search,” Oswald explained. “You will not return without him. You will not serve as my heir until Berk’s heir is safely returned. You are no longer heir to the Berserker tribe or a member of any tribe, until you fix this wrong.”

The youth sat back on his heels in disbelief. This was worse than death. To be exiled was to no one. He had no home, no tribe, no place to belong. He was effectively no one now.

“Find Hiccup, bring him home, and reclaim your title and honor,” Stoick declared. 

It was the end of his trial. He had lost everything in only a matter of minutes. It seemed surreal. Dagur was not taken back to his cell but rather escorted to the pier where a ship was awaiting him. There he was untied and ushered aboard. It all happened so fast that Dagur was left confused and unsure what to do. 

He failed to notice the you Hooligan waiting for him on the ship, as if he had always been a member of the crew. The short, dark haired youth had a sack over one shoulder and a thick book in the other hand.

“We’re about to set sail,” one of the crew told the youth, as if to tell him it was time to leave.

“Yeah, I’m coming with you,” the youth answered, dropping his sack. 

He turned toward Dagur as if Dagur knew what was going on. Dagur was too busy watching as what he always thought of as a proud Berserker sail was removed and a plan white one was hung in its place. His heart fell at the sight of it. His father was going all out on this one. It wasn’t some lame punishment as before; this was the real deal. He was actually being exiled.

“Dagur?” the dark-haired Hooligan asked. He came to stand in front of Dagur with a determined look.

“What?” Dagur snapped. He glared down at the younger boy, recognizing him as Hiccup’s older cousin Snot-what-its. “You’re not coming with me. Get off my ship.”

The Hooligan took a step back in surprise before squaring his shoulders and standing on tip toe. “I am going with you. My friend AND my cousin are missing. I’m going to help you find them.”

“And why would I need your help?” Dagur scoffed. He was in no mood to deal with some snot nosed kid who would likely only get in his way and increase the trouble he was already in. All he needed was Stoick blaming him for another missing kid.

Snotlout wasn’t deterred. He held up the book. On it was an embossed dragon sigil. “Because my dragon is with them, and if anyone knows anything about training dragons, it’s me. You kill even one of them, Hiccup will never come back with you, but you tame one and he’ll he be eating out of your hand.”

Dagur raised a brow. His father had explained that Hiccup had been acting weird only to protect his dragon friends. Apparently, Johann’s stories were true. Hiccup had lost his leg battling the Red Death along side a Night Fury. Berk was training dragons, or more precisely, Hiccup was. Why was beyond him but if anyone were going to end up choosing a dragon as a friend it would be Hiccup. Perhaps having someone who knew a little more about the way Hiccup thought would help him find the missing heir, or at the very least, get him past whatever dragons Hiccup may have accumulated.


	5. Chapter 5

Runaways Five

Dagur thought finding a boy with a bunch of dragons would be easy and he would be home within a few weeks, Hiccup in tow, and the whole nightmare would be over. But as the first month of his journey ended without so much as a hint to what direction Hiccup may have gone, doubt began to fill his mind and he found himself wondering if the reason they couldn’t find him or his friend was because they were already dead, in which case Dagur could never go home.

“They’re alive,” Snotlout insisted. “Hiccup’s too stubborn to die and he won’t let anything happen to Fishlegs. They’ll be fine.”

They stood at the bow of the ship as it passed through a series of sea stack. They were headed toward a storm and would have to make landfall or anchor soon. Dagur wasn’t looking forward to that. He didn’t want to search another island and come up short. He wanted Hiccup to simply be where the ship docked, ready to go, enough said. But that had yet to happen.

“You have a lot more faith in him than I do,” he countered Snotlout.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of Snotlout. When they’ve met previously, Snotlout used to pick on Hiccup or prank him endlessly and it was Dagur getting the younger heir out of trouble by dragging him along for an adventure…even if Hiccup got a little hurt along the way. The way Snotlout spoke of him now was almost in adoration while also speaking fondly of Fishlegs. There was worry and concern for Hiccup but genuine fear for Fishlegs. It was an odd combination coming from someone who used to torment them both. But Dagur wasn’t concerned about Fishlegs. His mission was to find Hiccup.

“Yeah, while you weren’t there when we battled the Red Death or saw how he tricked it to follow him and Toothless,” Snotlout explained. He sat on one of the crates and looked out over the horizon. “You didn’t watch him fall out of the sky and nearly die or heard his screams as his leg was amputated. You didn’t spend weeks wondering if he’ll ever wake up again while trying to act like nothing was wrong because Fishlegs would start crying or Astrid would get mad or Ruff and Tuff would get really quiet and no one knew what to do with themselves. You weren’t there. But he came back to us, so yeah, yeah, I have a lot of faith in him.”

Dagur stared at him in disbelief. The Hiccup he knew could never do all that.

Snotlout wiped at his eyes. “You know, Alvin the Treacherous invaded Berk to try and capture him. He thought the ‘Dragon Tamer’ was some seven-foot tall, muscle bound warrior that forced dragons to bend to his will. You should have seen his face when he discovered it was Hiccup. It was priceless. And Hiccup stood up him, even tricked him.” He nodded to himself. “I don’t give him enough credit, but the guy has balls. My Dad always said his mouth would get him in trouble but man, does he know how to mess with some people’s heads.”

That definitely wasn’t the Hiccup Dagur knew. Yes, he had way too much sass but to take on people like Alvin the Treacherous or to go up against something like the Red Death seemed more like fantasies than real life.

There was silence for a few minutes as Snotlout pondered everything that had happened the last few years. He gave a small sigh before standing. “I’ll help your men set up the tent. I think the storm’s going to hit us before we reach the island.” He paused before leaving. “You know, you really should read the Book of Dragons. Hiccup and Fishlegs worked really hard on it. If you want to get a gleam into his mind, that’s where he put a lot of his thoughts. I also stole his journal if you want to read that as well.”

Dagur gave a snort. He wasn’t big into reading and he wasn’t about to start now. He kept that position for quite a long time. He would glare at Snotlout whenever he found the Hooligan reading it or Hiccup’s journal. It seemed the younger boy had stolen several journals from both Hiccup’s and Fishlegs’s home before joining Dagur’s crew and stashed them in his bag rather than bring anything of real use. Snotlout would spend hours on end reading and reading, trying to get a sense of where his missing friends could have gone. But it was all for naught, there was no clue in any of them that could in lead them in the right direction.

They travelled to various islands, met with elders and tribe leaders, questioned every trader they met, but no one knew or saw a pair of boys matching Hiccup’s and Fishlegs’s description. Sometimes the ship would dock at an ally island and the crew would find lodging for a few nights so that they could have a few days away from sea. Many of them would find a warm body to share a bed with. Dagur didn’t always partake in this but his anger and frustration soon got the best of him. He demanded a wench that looked as much like Hiccup as he could possibly find. It didn’t matter to him if it was male or female, all he needed was someone to take his frustration out on, to yell out and curse at and tell them what a fool they were for running away like they did. Sometimes he would hit them and screamed that none of this would have happened had Hiccup only told the truth. Sometimes he would cry and hold them and apologize for ever hurting him. He wasn’t sure when it turned sexual and even why and he was certain it wasn’t due to him making the first move. Perhaps the boy who currently shared his bed kissed him first, perhaps not, it didn’t quite matter, it led to Dagur taking his frustrations out in a new way, one he knew he would never be able to do with the real Hiccup, but it also calmed him down and cleared his mind. 

“Maybe you should read his - my journals,” the present Not-Hiccup told Dagur as they lay together. 

His voice was as high or scratchy as the real Hiccup’s and Dagur was tempted to tell him to shut up. He wanted the real Hiccup to be talking to him and this one wasn’t pretending as well as some of the others.

“It may not you where he – I – am but it could tell you how to approach me when you…eh…find me,” Not-Hiccup continued.

Dagur frowned at that. “I don’t pay you to talk.”

The small youth rolled onto his side and met Dagur’s gaze. “No, but you need advice and that’s all I have for you.”

He was cocky like Hiccup. Maybe that’s why Dagur liked him, if only a little. Nonetheless, Dagur found himself finally opening one of Hiccup’s journals. He doubted he would find any answers in them but to be surprisingly insightful. He wasn’t a big reader though, so he was only able to deal with one or two entries at a time before getting bored and he only focused on the ones in the timeframe of Hiccup befriending Toothless until the day he disappeared. He had no use for anything before that. But Hiccup wrote a lot. His journals weren’t just a few lines but rather large entries with pages of dragon facts, new inventions, and the day’s adventures with Toothless. Sometimes it was flowery with how much he loved his dragon friend and future plans for the two. It was so sweet it was almost sickening, but it made one thing absolutely clear to Dagur; Hiccup enjoyed spending more time with his dragon than with anyone else. A ping of jealousy grew in Dagur’s stomach. He wished Hiccup wrote about him the same way. That thought caused him to look at some of Hiccup’s earlier entries from before Toothless came into his life. He found a stark difference between the two. Where Hiccup seemed happy and joyful in the entries after befriending Toothless, the ones before were often depressed and smeared with the odd tear. There were inventions and drawing but also a lot of self doubt and ridicule for mishaps that may or may not have been his fault. The few entries that featured Dagur were the hardest to read and often the most smudged, as if he had been crying while trying to write. There were entries about the day Hiccup almost drowned when they went swimming together and Dagur had held him underwater a little too long, about the time Hiccup was forced to be goalie when they played smash ball, the time Dagur locked him in a cage, another when he tried to teach Hiccup to sword fight – they had used wooden swords, but Hiccup still got hurt. While Dagur remembered these times fondly, Hiccup did not. Every word regarding Dagur was filled with anger and regret and a plea to never have to deal with him again.

“He hates me,” Dagur concluded one night. 

They had been searching for over a year now and Dagur could not get past everything he had read. He lay on the furs in his corner of the tent and stared at the book in his hands. The words were right there in Hiccup’s writing, “I hate Dagur!” So, it was not a lie. Hiccup had written it in his last entry, the night before Dagur and his father arrived on Berk. The night before Hiccup went missing. Hiccup hated him and was only doing what his father wanted him to, not because he wanted to but because he had to.

“He doesn’t hate you,” Snotlout objected from his bed roll. “He’s just scared of you and doesn’t like how violent you get.”

“It says it right here.” He showed Snotlout the book and pointed to the sentence.

“Yeah. He was probably scared what you might do. And he was right to. Stoick shouldn’t make him hang out with people that he’s scared of.”

A low growl escaped Dagur at that. “So, Hiccup can take on Alvin and the Outcasts but when it comes to spending time with me, he quakes in his boots…boot?”

“It’s different. Alvin was threatening his tribe. He did what he did to save us, but you…he’s known you his entire life and you’ve done nothing to make him feel safe or even liked. You bully him. Hel, I used to bully him. I stopped, for the most part. I still like pranking him but…it’s different now. He proved himself worthy of being Stoick’s heir.”

“You’ve read his journals.”

Snotlout nodded. “Yeah, did you read the section on me? Not nice, but that was before…now? We’re working on it, or we were at least.”

Dagur thought about that for several minutes. He really didn’t know much about Snotlout’s relationship with Hiccup other than they didn’t get along most of their life which had indeed been made clear in some of Hiccup old journal entries, but the newer ones were more positive and included recently sketches of Snotlout flying a Monstrous Nightmare.

“So, if I fly a dragon, he’ll like me?” he concluded as the only connection between Hiccup and Snotlout.

The younger boy laughed. “Not necessarily.”

“Then how do I make him like me?”

“You can’t make him,” Snotlout tried to explain. “You just…need to show him you can change. Apologize for what you’ve done to him and try to make amends.” He fell silent and shifted uncomfortably on his roll.

“Is that why you’re here?” Dagur asked. He rolled onto his side to face Snotlout. “To make amends to Fishlegs?”

For a moment Snotlout didn’t answer. He stared at the top of the canvas tent then sighed softly. “I pranked him, and he got hurt. Before I could fix things between us, he disappeared along with Hiccup. The stupid thing is, I was originally planning to prank Hiccup, but he was with you, so I did it to Fishy instead. It was so stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking placing his helmet in Meatlug’s mouth. I thought it might end up slimy like Hiccup’s did when Toothless found it and brought it back to him. I just wanted to see him covered in dragon saliva like Hiccup had been.”

Dagur looked completely lost so Snotlout told him about the previous Snoggletog and how Hiccup had lost his helmet and Berk’s dragons had all left to their nesting grounds. He explained how Hiccup had built Toothless a special tail so he could fly on his own and how Fishlegs had prevented Meatlug from leaving with the others then accidentally kidnapped Hiccup when she finally broke free. Dagur laughed at the images Snotlout painted and how frantic everyone was. He described what it was like finding Meatlug’s eggs and how Astrid had tried cheering everyone up by giving the eggs as presents only for them to explode and set half the village on fire, nearly ruining Snoggletog. He told Dagur of the joy they felt when the dragons returned just before Snoggletog with Hiccup, but also of Hiccup’s heartbreak at not finding Toothless and the fear he had that he may have lost him. And then he told him of the pure joy that washed over Hiccup when his Night Fury suddenly showed up in the mist of the celebrations, having found Hiccup’s helmet and rather than attempt to hand it over to Hiccup, he deposited it on the boy’s head, covered in so much saliva that it soaked Hiccup’s hair, tunic, and vest, but the boy hadn’t really cared because his best friend was back and that was all that mattered to Hiccup.

They laughed together at the image of Hiccup covered in dragon saliva. It also explained why Hiccup loved the Night Fury so much. Toothless sounded like a creature that would suit Hiccup’s personality.   
The story didn’t really help him figure a way to make amends to Hiccup, but it did give him a little more insight into why Hiccup would befriend a dragon.

Snotlout kept telling him stories about Hiccup and the riders adventures. Some were heroic and some were downright silly. Snotlout created a picture of Hiccup Dagur had never imagined possible for someone everyone used to refer to as the tribe’s runt and Stoick’s mistake. The person Snotlout described was still a runt, still clumsy and a dreamer, but rather than being negatives as they were in the past, they were now positives and Dagur couldn’t help but wonder why Hiccup hid all that from him. Would things have been different had Dagur known? He wasn’t sure. He like to think they would have, but he wasn’t quite sure. Would he have been kinder to Hiccup knowing he trained dragons and fought against the Outcasts, becoming a seasoned warrior in such a short time. Perhaps he didn’t have the physical strength to fight but he certainly had the wits to hold his own. Why hide that? Why pretend Berk didn’t have dragons when he could be conquering other tribes? The type of power could make Hiccup King of the Wilderwest, yet he hid it because his father told him to and instead endured what Dagur had done to him. It made no sense. Hiccup could have had his dragons kill Dagur in revenge but choose instead to runaway. There had to be more to Hiccup taking off the way he did than being used as bait by someone who would have bee gone the next day. The more he thought about it the more Dagur wondered if he was truly the cause of Hiccup’s disappearance or if there was more going on that neither he nor Snotlout had yet to grasp. It was something they had a lot of time to ponder over.

This wasn’t exactly the arrangement Dagur had wanted in his search for Hiccup, but he was actually thankful Snotlout had joined him. The ship’s crew barely spoke to him outside of ship matters. Most were resentful that they were forced on this mission with him so rarely spoke to him when not on duty and when they did it was with respect but not friendship. They were certain Dagur had killed Hiccup and that the whole idea of Hiccup having dragons was pure nonsense and an excuse for Oswald to finally be rid of Dagur. They didn’t say this out loud, but sometimes in the dead of night Dagur could hear them whispering to one another, debating if they should throw Dagur overboard and go home. No one attempted such a thing, but it was clear they had no use for an exiled former heir. Many still blamed him for his little sister’s, Heather, disappearance. When they went ashore for previsions or relaxation, none of them asked him to join them, preferring to get as far from Dagur as possible if only for a few hours. But Snotlout did. Snotlout wanted to hang out with him. Snotlout wanted to be his friend. At first it was annoying, but after almost a year together, Dagur was now grateful. He was lonely without his family, as Snotlout must have also been. But they had each other, and even if it took a lifetime, they would find Hiccup and Fishlegs together or die trying.


	6. Chapter 6

Runaways 6

After just over three years, Dagur was ready to give up. The had searched hundreds of islands and spoken with more people than Dagur knew existed within the Archipelago. They had travel west, south, east, and now north, outside the Archipelago and in completely new territory. He had he even hired bounty hunters in hopes that someone, anyone, would give them a lead to where Hiccup could have disappeared to, but there was nothing. Well, not all nothing. There was a rumor of a dragon rider further south that possessed a Night Fury, but their exact location was unknown. Nonetheless, a small ray of hope came with the news and led them to the Northern Markets. That was where they were now. He and Snotlout went from stall to stall and tavern to tavern asking if anyone had seen two youths fitting Hiccup’s and Fishlegs’s description but it seemed to be a loss cause. Either no one had or people were too busy to answer their questions. It wasn’t until Dagur offered a reward did people start talking to him. He didn’t have much to offer in the ways of a reward, he was nearly broke after three years at sea and had it not been for his father ensuring the crew was compensated, he wouldn’t even have them, but desperation had finally taken hold of him and he offered up his decorative helmet and belt buckle, both made of the finest metal that could be melted down into coins.

“There’s two boys with dragons that come to market once every month or so,” an elderly shop keeper informed Dagur and Snotlout. “They normally only come for the basics, seeds, fabric, spices, sometimes scrap metal, odd things like that. Only enough to safely carry on their dragons. They never stay long, rarely talk to anyone. I don’t know their names, but they come and go without causing any sort of mischief. Wish we had more customers like them.” He eyed Snotlout as the shorter man looked at his wares. “The bigger one is really into plants. He sometimes trades with the man two booths over.”

“How about the little one? The one with one leg?”

The man seemed confused. “Little one? Ah, the thin boy! He always has interesting things to trade. Doesn’t talk much unless showing off what his do-dad does. Nice boy, likes his scrap metal, but usually quiet.”

“Sounds like Hiccup to me,” Snotlout said. He leaned his hip against the table. “He was always making stuff to trade with Johann. Any idea where they were from or where they were going?”

The merchant shook his head. “Never asked, never cared. As long as they make a good trade, they’re fine by me.”

“Well, that’s a lot of good,” Snotlout grumbled. “And how many islands are in this area? Dozens? Hundreds?”

“Sixty-seven to be exact,” the man answered, as if Snotlout had been asking an honest question.

Snotlout threw up his hands in exasperation. “Perfect.”

“It’s better than what we’ve been dealing with,” Dagur soothed. He wasn’t surprised that searching more islands didn’t upset him. Sixty-seven was considerably less than what they had already searched. “How big are they?”

The merchant shrugged. “Fair size for the area. Shouldn’t take more than a day or two of searching each one, provided their chiefs allow you to. Some of them are pretty territorial. But if I would guess, they may be just south of here. I can’t see them flying more than an hour of two for supplies. Sometimes, rarely, they take a large load, but they haven’t done that in quite sometime.”

Dagur and Snotlout exchanged a look. 

“Do you have a map or know where we can get one?” Dagur asked. Hope filled him for the first time. “And perhaps someone who knows about dragon flight patterns?”

The man raised a brow. “Perhaps.” He nodded toward another stall across from his. It had dragon skins draped over it’s table and several hanging from the walls of the tent, which in itself was also made of dragon skins. “He can provide you with a map. His name is Lars. His family deals in dragons. If anyone can guide you it would be him.”

Reluctantly, Dagur handed over his belt buckle to the man as payment. It was the best lead they had in years and Dagur was not about to rip the merchant off in case they needed to come back later – provided the tip was good. He glanced inside the sack that held his helmet. He really hoped he hadn’t just given up his priced possessions for nothing. 

“You know, we could always do some odd jobs to make money,” Snotlout offered as they walked toward the other stall. “It’ll give us a few days off the ship and some extra money to pay for information rather than trading your helmet. We can chop wood or haul stuff. Just for a day or two and then…”

“We’re close,” Dagur interrupted. “I can feel it.” 

He had said that before, but this time felt different. Hiccup had actually been there. He could be back any day. Maybe if they did stay, they could find him, perhaps even track him to wherever it is he’s been hiding. Or just grab him and drag him home. He immediately ditched that idea. Hiccup’s dragons might go wild if they tried grabbing him. And if they cornered him, he could run away again. They needed to figure out where he was and then work on a way to get him home. He was tempted to send his father a Terror Mail and tell him they were close, but he didn’t want to disappoint him again.

Snotlout rolled his eyes but didn’t bother arguing. Sooner or later Dagur would realize they would have to find jobs if they hoped to continue the search. Sooner or later Oswald would stop financing it and when that happened what was left of their crew would leave. They had already lost nearly half who had opted to go home in disgrace than continue what they thought a futile quest. Snotlout wasn’t quite there yet but keeping enough supplies and food on their ship was becoming more and more of a challenge. Perhaps the next island they went to they should go hunting. A few pelts would help bring in some much-needed funds. Bear pelts would sell for a good price here, so would a few rabbit or minx pelts. He mentally catalogued the type of furs he could get on his own that he was certain would trade for a fair amount. They could open their own stall if they needed to. 

But Dagur had a one-track mind and he was already talking to the vendor he had been instructed him to.

“He’s about this tall, auburn hair, nasally voice and may or may not have a Night Fury with him,” Dagur was telling the man. He thrusted a thumb over his shoulder to the other merchant. “He said you may have a map and know something about dragon flight patterns.”

Lars look past him to the other booth and frowned. “Aye, but I’m not sure of the boy you’re referring to, the Night Fury though, I’ve seen it. It’s near impossible to catch with that rider of his.”

Snotlout perked up as he stood next to Dagur. “Is there every a Gronkle with it?”

The man’s eyes narrowed as he eyed the two. “Yes.”

“Yes!” Snotlout breathed. Maybe Dagur was right. Perhaps they will finally find Hiccup and Fishlegs.

Lars look from Snotlout to Dagur, clearly not happy with the topic at hand. “You know their riders?”

Snotlout nodded but Dagur had suddenly become more cautious.

“Maybe. Two of our friends went missing and we’re trying to find them,” Dagur explained. He shoulders were suddenly tense as if he were expecting trouble. “I’m willing to pay a reward to anyone who can help us find them.” He pulled the helmet out of his satchel. “It’s made of the finest iron in all the Archipelago. You can melt it down and…”

“That’s what trying trading?” Lars scoffed in disbelief. He glanced from the helmet to Dagur. “I have no need for a helmet and there’s barely enough iron there to make a dagger with. “It’s not worth even one of my maps.”

Dagur’s eyes widened in surprise. He looked as if he had just been slapped in the face. “It’s all I have left,” he explained, sounding more like a child than a grown man.

Lars only glared at him in response, his dark brown eyes like steel.

“What would you want in trade?” Snotlout asked. He didn’t want Dagur losing his temper or starting another fight like he had on a few other islands that had ended with their entire crew being kicked out of the village and banned from markets.

The vendor turned his attention to Snotlout. “Now you seem more sensible. Alright, the hide of a Scaldron should be enough to cover one of my maps.”

“What? But you have one right there,” Snotlout pointed out. He gestured to the yellow and green pelt hanging on the left wall.

“They’re a big seller. If you want to map, I want the pelt.”

Dagur’s shoulders tensed for a moment and his hands balled into tight fists. It looked as if he were about to jump over the table and strangle the man. Then his shoulders drooped, and the air rushed out of him in a sigh. “Let’s get out of here, Snotty. I doubt his maps would be any help any way.”

He turned to leave. This was just another dead end that he had wasted money and resources on.

“Hey,” Lars called, before he got too far. “If you’re really looking for your friends try heading south-west but be careful. There are a few tribes out there that don’t like people getting close and will attack your ship, especially if they think you’re a Dragon Hunter. Best to avoid them altogether.”

“Thanks,” Snotlout said as Dagur walked away without so much as acknowledging what Lars had told him. “So other than dragon pelts, what do people look for around here? You know in case we have to come back and do more trading.”

Lars frowned at him but after a moment wrote him up a list of animal pelts that were worth something at the Northern Market. They weren’t worth nearly as much as a dragon skin but enough to keep them and the crew fed and supplied for a few weeks. Whether or not Dagur wanted to admit it, this was what they would have to do if they had any hope of finding Hiccup and Fishlegs.

The crew was less than happy leaving the Northern Market early, and not everyone came back to the ship as commanded. Some stayed behind, preferring to find work on the island rather than go back to sea for the hopeless quest. What started with over a dozen men now had only a handful. Eventually, they may have to go it alone or hire a new crew, not that they could afford to.

They headed south-west as Lars suggested and Snotlout wrote to Berk to give an update on their search. There wasn’t much to write but he sent a Terrible Terror with the note, nonetheless. He rarely received a response but sometimes Astrid would write back to let him know his family was doing well and to ask if they had any luck. The letters were probably the most she spoke to him outside dragon training.

They were into their third night since leaving the Northern Market and had already searched four small islands when Dagur decided things had to change.

“We’ll become pirates!” he declared, as if such a suggestion made perfect sense. “We’ll raid a few merchant ships on the way to market, take their wares and then sale them.”

“And that will make you look better in Hiccup’s eyes?” Snotlout countered. It was a crazy scheme, but they were getting desperate.

Dagur sobered. “Those merchants scammed us. Hiccup and Fishlegs…we’re not going to find them. They’re probably dead and if we continue as we are, we’re dead too. I say we raid a few ships, make back some money, and then find a new island to call home and send the crew back to Berserk.”

Snotlout stared at him in disbelief. “You’re giving up?”

The older man laid back on his role. The expensive furs he once had were gone now, sold for food months earlier. “I’m tired, Snotty. I’m tired of searching. I’m tired of feeling guilty and hurt. I’m just tired of it all. Aren’t you? Don’t you want to home and see your family?”

He was. Snotlout hated to admit that but he was tired as well. He even missed the twins and the chaos that followed them. But was he ready to give up? He wasn’t sure.

They both jumped when a loud thump rocked the ship. Men let out a yell of alarm and Dagur and Snotlout quickly got out of bed and to their feet.

“Did we hit something?” Dagur yelled.

He and Snotlout hurried out of the tent covered section of the ship to the bow. Perhaps they had ran ashore or hit a small sea stack that was hidden by the tide. It was too dark to see so certain. It was a new moon, and the sky was as black as spilled ink with only the stars breaking it. The only light they had were the lanterns that hung long the inside walls of the ship. It gave just enough light to make out the shape of a black creature perched on the figurehead of the longboat. It was so dark, blacker than the night surrounding it, with bright green eyes that seemed to glow in the dark. It was a frightening sight, but no more so that its companion.

“Demon,” one of the men gasped, stepping back.

And surely it must have been because no man stood the way this one did, crouched as if a dragon about to pounce. His body covered in armor that appeared to be made of black scales and a helmet and mask covered his head and face, making it impossible to see who this person was. A sword that appeared to be made of fire clenched in one hand. He – Snotlout was certain their assailant was male – cocked his head to one side as if eyeing the men before him as if searching for something. Or perhaps he was there to sink their ship and finally put an end to their quest. 

It all happened rather quickly. Whatever the person had come for apparently was not on the ship and he turned to his dragon companion without a word or explanation of who he was or what he wanted. But it was the familiar click of metal against wood that gave Snotlout pause. A metal foot?

“Hiccup?” he whispered before taking a step forward.

The dragon growled at him in warning but that did not deter Snotlout.

“Toothless?”

A familiar and confused warble came from the dragon and Snotlout felt his chest tighten. Of all the dragons he had encountered only one made that sound. 

“Leave,” the man ordered. The voice was muffled and slightly deeper than what Snotlout remembered but it could only belong to one person. 

“Wait!” Snotlout yelled. 

He tried to make a grab for the masked man but quickly backed away as the Night Fury’s mouth lit up with plasma, ready to fire upon anyone who dared touch his rider. A moment later they were gone. Snotlout did his best to track them in the dark and see which direction they went. Had it not been for the stars he may not have succeeded. 

“Hard to port!” he yelled to the man at the stern. “I think we’ve found them.”

The ship slowly began to turn in the direction the Night Fury had gone. Snotlout was giddy. After all this time they finally spotted Hiccup and had a solid lead to where he was. The ships sail unfurled to catch the breeze and make they journey faster.

“I can’t believe he came to us,” Snotlout laughed as Dagur stood next to him.

“You’re sure that was him?” Dagur asked, still shocked by the encounter.

“Metal foot, overprotective Nigh Fury? Yeah, that was our Hiccup.”

“It didn’t act like Hiccup.”

Snotlout shrugged. “Maybe not, but it was him. I’m sure of it.”

Dagur followed his gaze but seemed uncertain and perhaps even a little scared. Seeing dragons while at sea was not unusual. Seeing demons or dragon-people was thought of as a bad omen or a sign that one was losing their mind. They had been at sea for three years, had lost crew members due to madness, illness, or them simply abandoning the cause. With so few of them left it would not be surprising if this dragon creature had come to finish them off. But the more he stared out in the direction their masked visitor had gone, the more he began to think that perhaps, just perhaps, Snotlout was right and this was indeed Hiccup. He gave a small laugh at the irony of it. Only a few minutes ago he had been talking about becoming pirates and raiding ships and giving up the whole search for Hiccup when none other than Hiccup himself attacks their ship and probably would have raided them had he found whatever it was he was looking for. Dagur was certain he was slipping into madness. Such a thing was too ironic to be possible.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: Glima is a form of Viking martial arts which I believe most Vikings would have been taught at a young age but that Hiccup didn't learn until he was older due to Stoick being over protective. For Hiccup, I mixed it up a little bit because we don't really have a 100% accurate description of the fighting style. You can learn more about it here https://www.vikingmartialarts.com/combat-glima

Runaways 7

Snotlout’s chest began to tighten as they neared a small island. Hiccup was nowhere in sight, Toothless was too fast for any ship to keep up with, but with the rising sun he could make out the shapes of dragons flying over and around the island. They weren’t just any dragons; these were Berk’s dragons. How did he know? Dragon packs typically flew with their own species but the four he spotted playing together were all different and only played like this back on Berk.

His knees felt weak upon seeing them and he nearly collapsed in joy. After over three years…three years…he may have finally found Fishlegs and Hiccup. He gripped side of the boat and tried to get a better look at the island itself. They were approaching a bay which seemed like a perfect place for a port. The rock walls worked as a barrier for breaking the waves and allowing an approaching boat to sail to the island with ease. But this wasn’t a grand village with a bustling trade port. It wasn’t even a village. There were only two small four small huts within sight but no people. And rather than having a series of docks for ships, there was one little one to the west of the buildings, too small for anything but a trading ship, and a tiny one at that.

All-in-all, it didn’t feel right. None of this felt right. For one, he saw the dragons but could not see Fishlegs or Hiccup. It was easy enough to tell which huts were theirs by the dragon motifs they used to decorate, but as for either boy themselves, there was no sign of them. It was early morning, they could be sleeping, but that knot in the pit of Snotlout’s stomach grew as the long boat slip next to the pier.

“Am I the only one that thinks something is off about this place?” Dagur asked.

Snotlout shook his head. There was something definitely off about this island. The rest of the crew must have felt it as well. They had their weapons drawn as they disembarked, and he had to nudge Dagur to remind him that they were there to find their friends not to start a fight.

“Stow the weapons,” Dagur commanded.

The men stopped and stared at him in shock. “There are dragons,” one pointed out. He gestured to the group of dragons flying further inland.

“They’re Berk’s dragons. They won’t hurt us,” Snotlout answered. “And they’re well trained. They won’t hurt anyone unless told to.”

“And what if they’re told to kill us?” the man argued.

Dagur folded his arms across his chest. “Then I’ll miss you, but them killing you won’t be worse than what I’ll do if you don’t stand down now. All of you.”

The men were obviously at the end of their rope and Snotlout could almost see each of them debating whether or not to mutiny and finally be done with Dagur once and for all, but after several long tense minutes they each put away their sword or crossbow before proceeded toward the huts. Snotlout wasn’t sure what to do; if they should knock or just yell out names. Dagur seemed just as lost but headed directly for what they presumed was Hiccup’s hut. He glanced to Snotlout before raising his fist and rapping on the door.

“Hiccup?” he called, his voice quitter and more subdued than Snotlout had ever heard in before.

Snotlout waited a moment, watching to see if Hiccup would answer but no one did. Dagur repeated the knocked and waited a little longer before opening it and going inside, still calling for Hiccup. A moment later he came out and shook his head. Okay, that was odd. Snotlout knocked on Fishlegs’s door and called out to him, but rather than wait for an answer, he opened the door and went inside.

There was evidence of Fishlegs living here. There were shelves lined with books about dragons and botany and numerous other subjects that Snotlout wasn’t quite interested in. There was the scent of fresh bread that must have been baked less than a day ago and the whole hut was warm and welcoming, much like Fishlegs. But the boy was not there. It was completely empty.

The third hut proved much the same. Someone lived there but it was impossible to tell who.

With the exception of an outhouse and barn, there were no other structures to search. The little village was small but functional. In addition to small farm that hosted several chicken and sheep, there was a fair size garden that held vegetables and some fruit and had intricate lettuce work at one side that allowed for climbing vegetables and provided shade to those that needed to be in partial sun. Snotlout prided himself for remembering that tidbit of information Fishlegs had bestowed upon him years ago. The more Snotlout studied the layout of the village, the more impressed he was with both Hiccup and Fishlegs’s ingenuity. The village was far enough from the shore to provide much needed soil for the garden and greenery for the animals to eat, and the main building were on stilts interlocked by rope bridges that kept them safe enough above sea level to keep from being destroyed by high tide or sudden wave – the natural formed break wall also helped with that – but they were also able to look out over the sea, giving them perfect sight of any approaching ships. It was perfectly defendable.

“They saw us coming,” Snotlout concluded. 

He looked out toward sea. It didn’t matter which hut they were in, the had a perfect view of any approaching vessel and could escape if they felt it was hostile. But escape where? All the dragons were still on the island, flying further inland.

“I know where they are,” he declared in sudden excitement. Dagur looked at him in surprise. Snotlout gestured around. “There’s no water source here. Not even a well. So that means there as to be a freshwater stream or lake further inland, which also means there’s probably a trail.”

A grin lit Dagur’s face. “You men stay here!” he ordered.

He and Snotlout left the village and searched for a trail. He wasn’t hard to find. Like the time he had tried to find Hiccup on Berk, finding the telltale impression of his prosthetic was relatively easy. They followed what appeared to be the freshest. There were other tracks with them, someone with much larger feet and another with slightly smaller ones, as well as what obviously belonged to a dragon. Snotlout perked up at the sight of them.

“Toothless, he explained as he pointed them out. “Wherever Hiccup is, Toothless is always close by.”

Dagur frowned. Even after everything he learned about the Night Fury and Hiccup’s relationship over the last three years, he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of Hiccup training, let alone riding, dragons. Nevertheless, this was the closet they’ve been to Hiccup and he wasn’t about to turn back because of some dragon, or even a pact of them.

He cringed as Snotlout began calling out Fishlegs and Hiccup’s names. He wasn’t sure that was a good idea. What if they didn’t want to be found? What if they just went further into hiding? That sent a funny feeling surging through Dagur. Was it fear? Was it guilt? He didn’t know but it made him anxious and before he knew it, he was running down the path and screaming Hiccup’s name at the top of his lungs. He couldn’t be this close only lose Hiccup again.

“Hiccup! Hiccup, I know you’re here! I know you’re the one that attacked my ship. Where are you? I’m not here to hurt you,” he yelled in desperation. 

They had reached the wide stream, but other than startling a flock of small black dragons, there was no one there. Dagur looked from direction of the stream to the other then glanced down at the tracks. 

“That way!” 

He pointed downstream toward what appeared to be a volcano. He took off in that direction, not waiting for Snotlout to agree with him or not. They were close. He could feel it. His heart was racing. All he had to do was find Hiccup and bring him home and then this whole nightmare would finally be over. Stoick would forgive him. His father would take him back with open arms. He’d be heir of Berserk again. Hel, he may even be a hero for ‘saving’ Hiccup and his friend.

That line of thinking came to a quick end when he suddenly found a read and orange Monstrous Nightmare blocking his way. The dragons snarled at him, its entire body lighting on fire. Dagur fell back in surprise. It stalked slowly toward him in a clear threat, but it wasn’t the only dragon. Moments later the rest of Berk’s dragons were surrounding him and Snotlout. He looked around him horror at the odd assortment of dragons surrounding them. The Monstrous Nightmare, a Deadly Nadder, a Zippleback, A Gronkle, and the Night Fury that had been with a rider earlier. Dagur’s mouth felt dry as he stared at them. Each one was growling, threatening harm should either man move. Dagur had no intention to move so much as a muscle.

“Hookfang!” Snotlout called out happily.

The Monstrous Night looked away from Dagur to Snotlout, eyes widening slightly in recognition before narrowing and blowing a thin line of fire toward his former rider. Snotlout gave a small yelp of surprise but quickly recovered and folded his arms across his chest.

“Yeah, I miss you, too. You want to stop with the theatrics?”

That earned another growl from the large dragon.

“Uh huh, three years is a long time to be gone. You ready to go home?”

Dagur glanced at Snotlout in surprise. Did the dragon really understand him or was it just responding to a familiar voice? Whatever it was, the Nightmare seemed to calm down a little and the fire covering its body extinguished.

Snotlout sighed in relief. He glanced toward the Gronkle and gave it a small smile. “Hey Meatlug, where’s Fishlegs?”

The Gronkle stopped growling and gave him a curious look. It was the same reaction from each dragon as they were addressed by name. Dagur watched in fascination as one by one the dragons recognized Snotlout and claimed down. They still weren’t too sure of Dagur but eventually they allowed him to stand without anymore snarling and only the tiniest of growls. 

But it may not have been Snotlout that put the dragons at ease.

Dagur felt the point of a sword against the small of his back.

“I told you to leave,” the same muffled voice from last night said. It sounded almost like a growl, like a human-dragon hybrid.

Dagur tried to keep his cool. He really didn’t like when people pulled a weapon on him. At least this one wasn’t on fire or it might have set his clothing on fire. “I can’t do that.”

“Yes, you can, and you will. Both of you.”

The dragons were growling again, as if to reinforce what their master had said.

Dagur glanced at Snotlout. There was no weapon drawn on him, but he looked a mix of hurt at being sent away and determined to stay.

Dagur’s jaw set. He wasn’t leaving, not without Hiccup. He only hoped he was making the right decision. Without warning, he spun around in hopes of knocking the weapon out of his assailant’s hand. It was the same man as before and once again he was dressed in black scaled armor from head to toe. Despite that, he was surprisingly light on his feet and was out of reach before Dagur was fully turned. Dagur lunged for him but the man was prepared and kneed him harm in the stomach before twisting around and ramming his elbow in Dagur’s face, just missing his nose but hitting his cheek. That was not a smart move. Rage filled Dagur as he made a second attack. He managed to land a punch to the man’s left side, hitting his ribs. There was a startled cry, but the man didn’t back down. He stepped back and gestured for the dragons to hold their ground but not interfere. Dagur didn’t much care. Blood lust filled Dagur and he stalked around the other man, looking for an opening. This man may have amor, but he only had one foot and the injury to his left side left him unbalanced. If he attacked there then he could throw him to ground and pin him, then they would finally get answers.

It seemed like a solid plan and Dagur went to do just that, but he had not considered that perhaps that was what the man wanted him to think. Dagur was completely taken by surprise when the other man used his momentum against him. The man allowed him to get in close before grabbing Dagur’s right arm as the he tried to hit him, then using it to swing his body around Dagur’s back, throwing him completely off balance, and forcing him to the ground. Dagur hit the ground hard, the other man still holding his arm, the angle putting stain on his shoulder and causing intense pain. Not only that, but the metal prosthetic held him in place but pressing painfully into the pain of his neck. It wasn’t enough to cause breathing difficulty but as a warning that a shift in weight could do just that or snap his neck.

Dagur had no choice. If he tried to knock the guy off him in this position he wouldn’t win. 

“Hiccup, stop!” a high pitch voice yelled.

Dagur couldn’t see who it was. His wrist was twisted a little more and for one frightful moment he feared his arm might be pulled right out of its socket. Wait, did he just say Hiccup?

“Fishlegs!” Snotlout gasped.

A blonde, heavy set man rushed into the clearing. “Hiccup, let him go,” he demanded. He stopped just short of Hiccup and Dagur. “You’re going to break his arm.”

“Your point?” 

The voice did not match what Dagur remembered. It was cold, void of emotion. This couldn’t be the Hiccup he remembered.

“You’re better than that,” Fishlegs urged.

There was a moment of silence and then Dagur’s arm was released. The metal foot on his neck pressed down just a little harder in clear warning before finally being lifted off his neck.

The man stepped back as Dagur rolled over with a groan, but whatever anger Dagur may have felt at losing a fight was suddenly gone as the other man removed his helmet. Dagur wasn’t sure what he expected to see. Maybe the little boy he had tormented all those years ago. Maybe a scared and battle-hardened older man who just happened to share the same name as Hiccup. He wasn’t expecting to see what he did, and he couldn’t help the way his heart suddenly sped up.

What he saw when Hiccup took off his helmet wasn’t quite a vision of beauty, although the man did hold some charm in the looks department. No, what he saw was what he had always hoped to see in Hiccup. He was no longer a frightened little boy doing as others told him to do. That person was gone. In his place was a fierce warrior whose once bright green eyes were now cold, and battle hardened. The armor he wore made it look even more so. There was hate there. It was real and directed toward Dagur, and while that was disconcerting, it also sent a thrill through Dagur he had never felt before. This Hiccup…this Hiccup he liked.

“Get him off my island,” Hiccup told Fishlegs as he turned away. He made a strange series of clicking and warbling sounds toward the Night Fury before mounting it and then they were gone again.

Fishlegs watched him go. “Well, that went better than expected,” he mused with the tinies of smiles.

Snotlout balked at that. “Better than expected? What were you expecting?” he demanded. 

He had been frozen on the spot when the fight occurred. He had not been expecting it, nor was it directed at him. He didn’t know if he should intervene or not, but the dragons made it clear that if he tried, they would stop him. It was unusual behaviour for them, and he didn’t want to take the chance of them actually attacking. It had been over three years since he last rode or dealt with any of them. Three years was a long time. They may remember him, but they didn’t yet trust him.

Fishlegs met his gaze with an oddly amused one. “That Hiccup might actually kill him,” he explained as if it was no big deal. “You should have seen how made he was when he got home last night. I thought he’d take the dragons and attack the ship. Then when he saw your ship headed for the island…” He shrugged. “This could have gone a lot worse. Come on, let’s go to my hut and I’ll patch you up,” he offered Dagur.

Snotlout was sorely confused by the whole scenario. He and Fishlegs helped Dagur to his feet, then headed back to the village with Meatlug in tow. The other dragons went back to patrolling the skies. This was definitely not going the way Snotlout thought it would.


	8. Chapter 8

Runaways 8

There was an uneasy silence as they walked back to the village. Dagur kept looking to the sky, hoping to see Hiccup and his Night Fury. When did Hiccup learn to fight and who could have possible taught him Glima if only he and Fishlegs lived on the island? Surely the larger youth didn’t know how to fight like that. No, Hiccup was fast and moved almost like a dragon, staying low and side stepping with a skill that could only come from years of training. Glima was a form of martial arts that was used in close, hand-to-hand combat. Most warriors began learning at a young age. Dagur knew it, was actually fairly good at it, but had never needed to use it before. His father claimed he wasn’t disciplined enough to master it. Yet Hiccup, the kid whose head was always in the clouds, had learned enough to best him. Oddly enough, that didn’t hurt his pride as much as it might have in the past. In fact, it sent a strange thrill through him. If Hiccup had fought like this when they were kids, then things might have been different between them.

“So, this is where you’ve been all these years?” Snotlout finally asked. The shock of the fight had worn off and he hundreds of questions to ask.

Fishlegs shrugged his wide shoulders. “Pretty much. We spent time on a few other islands before finding this one. It was the most hospitable and far enough from Berk that it seemed unlikely anyone would find us.” He glanced toward Dagur. “Or so we thought.”

“Why?” Dagur suddenly demanded. “Why would you leave Berk because of a stupid accident? Why would Hiccup…”

“Hiccup would have left regardless if I went with him or not.” Fishlegs stopped just outside his hut and turned toward Dagur. “The difference is I made sure he survived. You really have no idea what you did to him, do you?”

“I toughened him up.”

“You left him for dead.”

Dagur inhaled sharply as the large man invaded his space.

“He lost a lot of blood, to the point he couldn’t fly anymore with Toothless. Meatlug came for me and took me to him. He was ready to die rather than go back to Berk and face you. So, I patched him up and went with him to keep him safe.” His blue gaze searched Dagur’s green one with a deep frown, as if making sure Dagur understood what he was saying. His frown deepened slightly before he turned away and led them into his hut. “Since then, we’ve been taking care of each other.”

Dagur sighed. He was starting to hate himself again and that was a horrible feeling. “Who taught him Glima?”

Fishlegs poured some water into a pot as Meatlug started the hearth fire. “That would be Throk. He’s from a local tribe. We ended up on their island by accident about two years ago. When Hiccup discovered they were proficient in it he asked to be trained. We’d probably be living there if Hiccup didn’t prefer being away from people. He goes, spends maybe a day there then comes home. Although he prefers when Throk comes here, but he has duties to his queen.”

“I’d like to meet this Throk.”

The blonde gave a small laugh. “I’m sure you would, but Hiccup wants you gone before he gets back so it’s best if you’re gone.”

Snotlout looked at Dagur in fear. After all this time a few precious minutes was not enough time. “Fishlegs, your mother…and Stoick, they want you two home. I…I want you home. I know what I did was wrong. I’m sorry. It was a stupid prank that went wrong. I never meant to hurt you. And Hiccup…we’ll work things out with him. He’s still heir of Berk. He needs to go home.”

Fishlegs stared at the pot of water as it slowly boiled. “How is she…my mom?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her since we left Berk. I tried writing to her once, but she never wrote back. Astrid told me she has her hands full with your niece and nephews. She misses you both as well. And Stoick…he’s heart broken. He’s afraid he’s lost Hiccup like he did Valka.” Snotlout hesitated a moment before crossing the room and placing a hand on Fishlegs’s shoulder. He bit his lower lip when he felt the larger man flinched under his touch. “If you won’t go home, would you at least write to her and let her know you’re okay?”

A sigh escaped Fishlegs, but he gave a small nod. “Yeah, I’ll let her and Stoick know we’re okay.”

“So, if you’re not kicking us off the island right away maybe we can compare our adventures? We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

Fishlegs looked at him in surprise. “You actually want to talk to me?”

Snotlout tilted his head to one side in confusion. Why did Fishlegs seem so surprised? Had they never really talked to each other before? “Yeah. The crew need to stretch their legs and honestly, I need off that boat for a while. I seriously miss flying Hookfang.”

Fishlegs’s face lit up as if it were Snoggletog morning. “I bet. Yeah, I can spare a few hours.”

Dagur watched the two in silence before slipping out the door. This didn’t feel right. They couldn’t have come all this way to go home empty handed. He paced along the deck in front of Fishlegs’s hut. How could he convince Hiccup to return with him to Berk? Hiccup hated him. He probably even wanted him dead. Well, that wasn’t going to happen, at least he hoped. Could he challenge him to Glima? His arms stung at the very thought of that. He still couldn’t believe that Hiccup had taken him down so easily. No, that wouldn’t work, not right now. Hiccup had been training while Dagur was stuck at sea and unable to keep up with his own training. Plus, Hiccup had dragons. There was no way to take him by force. There had to be a way to convince Hiccup to return to Berk, even if only for one day so that he could that he was still alive. After that if he wanted to come back to his little island paradise that was on him. All Dagur needed was Hiccup to clear his name so he could go back to his life and forget this entire nightmare. But how? 

His noticed the ship’s captain wandering along the shoreline. All of the crew were staying close to the beach rather than approaching the village. It took a moment for Dagur to understand. Some of Hiccup’s dragons were wandering about freely. Berserkers were used to hunting dragons not freely interacting with them. And none of his crew had taken the time to read the books Snotlout had brought aboard like Dagur had so they had no understanding. They were afraid. It gave Dagur an idea.

He headed to the beach, careful not to spoke any of the dragons along the way. There was a small clicking and crackle sound from the Zippleback as he came a little too close to it, but they did nothing to stop him. It sent a small fright through Dagur, but he squared his shoulders and continued on.

“Magnus,” he called as he approached the captain.

The older man turned to him. “Sir?”

Dagur took a deep breath. He prayed he wasn’t about to make a big mistake. “Snotlout and I will be staying here. I want you to return to Berserk. Report to my father that we’ve found Hiccup and his friend and will return on dragon back two full moons from now.”

Confusion filled Magnus as he looked down upon Dagur. “Are you sure about this?”

Dagur nodded. “Yes. If you follow the stars you should be able to make it back to Berserk in a few weeks, if not less now that you don’t need to search anymore islands. Make sure my father knows we succeeded.”

“Yes, sir. Be careful.”

“I will.” He gave the captain a small smile. 

He kept watch as Magnus gathered the crew then boarded the ship and left. He waited until they were a fair distance before heading back to Fishlegs’s hut. He acted as if nothing had happened and sat down to listen as the two Hooligans exchanged stories. It was as if three years hadn’t passed at all. The two talked like old friends, joking around, and teasing one another about whatever mishap they had faced while on their travels. Snotlout smiled a lot, but not with this much ease. And Fishlegs, he was right at home hosting guests. It looked as if this was something he missed doing. His Gronkle was curled up in the corner sleeping. It seemed so odd to have a dragon as a pet let alone having one sleep in a person’s home.

It was perhaps another hour or so before Hiccup made an appearance. The young man walked into the hut no longer wearing his armor but simple tunic and trousers. His hair was disheveled, no doubt due to wearing the helmet. He had grown considerably over the last three years. He was tall, much taller than he was at fifteen, and just one look made Dagur realize that Hiccup may actually be taller than him now. He was still thin, too thin in Dagur’s opinion, but he knew all too well it hid the strength Hiccup had gained from both training to fight as well as dragon riding. 

He came in, not bothering to knock, showing that he and Fishlegs had an open-door policy for each other.

“They’re finally gone,” he said. He didn’t immediately notice Dagur and Snotlout as he hung up some freshly caught fish from a nearby hook. “We might have to consider moving. The last thing we need is my Dad…” His next words died in his throat as he turned to the table and the three men sitting there. “Wha…”

“What are you talking about?” Snotlout asked, genuinely confused.

Dagur mimicked his confusion.

Hiccup stared at them with wide years and seemed frozen on the spot. Dagur would have smiled and taunted him for getting one up on him, but the logical side that remembered the rage Hiccup had displayed earlier kept him from attempting to provoke him. There was actual fear in Hiccup’s eyes and that made Dagur’s chest hurt.

“We’re heading out shortly. Snotlout just wanted a few minutes to catch up with Fishlegs then we’ll go,” he told the Hooligan heir.

Hiccup looked from him to Snotlout then to Fishlegs. “Their ship’s gone,” he said in stunned confusion.

“No, it was at the pier,” Dagur objected, despite knowing the truth. He stood up and went to the door, brushing past Hiccup. He tried to ignore the way Hiccup hurriedly moved out of his way. The others followed him outside and sure enough the boat was gone and was nowhere in sight, not that Dagur was surprised. “Those sons of trolls!” Dagur yelled. He slammed his fist against the rail and turned to Snotlout. “Now what?”

Snotlout looked up at him with wide eyes. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hiccup muttered under his breath. He didn’t stay to figure out what happen but walked away. “I’ll go after it.”

Dagur hadn’t thought of that. “Hiccup, wait! They could be miles in either direction. Let’s just…”

“Let’s keep them,” Fishlegs suddenly said.

Hiccup stopped and turned back to them in disbelief. “Keep them?”

“Until the next trade ship comes,” Fishlegs explained as he approached his friend. He had his hands risen as if attempting to calm a wild animal. “We could use the extra help. The Green Death has been luring more and more dragons away lately and terrorizing the Western islands. Maybe they can help us take it out, like we did the Red Death.”

“There’s another one of those things?” Snotlout explained.

Fishlegs nodded. “Yeah, and it’s just as bad, if not worse, than Red. We’ve been trying to figure a way to take it out for months.”

Hiccup shook his head. “No. ‘Lout hasn’t ridden a dragon in over three years. Dagur CAN’T ride a dragon.”

“Then teach me,” Dagur offered. He took a step toward Hiccup. He raised his hands the same as Fishlegs, hoping maybe that would show Hiccup he meant no harm.

Hiccup’s lips formed a thin line. “Did I say can’t? I meant WON’T. You won’t ride one of these dragons. I’m not going to train you. I want nothing to do with you.”

He turned on his heel and stomped off.

Fishlegs’s shoulders fell and he let out a sigh. “It’ll probably be best if we left him alone for a while,” he told Dagur and Snotlout as he headed toward the barn. “I have some chores to do. If you want, you can help me. Maybe we can figure something out. Once Heather gets back, I’ll ask her to talk to him.”

Snotlout perked up at the name. “Heather? The same girl who worked for Alvin?”

Fishlegs laughed. “Yeah, we bumped into her a few months ago. Someone attacked her village and wiped it out. She’s been with us since…but she’s a lot like Hiccup. She doesn’t like being around people so comes and goes as she pleases.”

The dark-haired man whistled. “Is she still a babe? Did she ask about me?”

Fishlegs rolled his eyes. “Yes, Snotlout, because she’s madly in love with you and was just waiting for you to show up and rescue us.”

“I knew it!”

That had Fishlegs doubling over in laughter. “You haven’t changed at all.”

“Why would I?”

More laughter.

Dagur barely paid them any attention. For a brief moment he thought they were talking about his Heather but that was impossible. His Heather had been missing well over a decade and most likely died at sea. Still, for one moment he thought maybe his luck was improving. If he couldn’t bring Hiccup home, he could have at least brought Heather home. That would make his father happy and perhaps even restore his honor enough for him to reclaim his rightful place as Berserk’s heir. But this girl already had a tribe, and while they may have been wiped out by a rival tribe, she knew who her people were. His Heather was never coming back.


	9. Chapter 9

Runaways 9

For the next few days, Dagur occupied himself by doing chores, or more precisely, Hiccup’s chores. Fishlegs had let him know all the jobs Hiccup had taken upon himself, which was quite a bit to be honest. So, Dagur woke up early every morning and got a start on them. It wasn’t a bad arrangement. He slept on the main floor of Fishlegs’s hut, across from Snotlout. It was no different than sleeping on the longboat but lacked the chance of becoming seasick. He would wake up before the sun rose and go gather water for the animals as well as feed them. While they were outside, he would muck out the entire barn and lay out fresh straw. He discovered the field Hiccup and Fishlegs were using and took it upon himself to cut whatever was needed and transport it by wagon all the way back to the barn. He would hunt and fish, ensuring the day’s meat supply was cared for and even went as far as to build a smoker like the one he helped his father make when he was young and would smoke the meat. That usually led to him lecturing one of the dragons mistook the meat for their own snack.

Sometimes he would catch Hiccup watching him, eyes still cold and the frown never changing. Hiccup refused to talk to him. He barely even acknowledged Dagur’s existence. When they ate, Hiccup either didn’t join them or sat as far from Dagur as possible. He primarily spent his time with Toothless, who was almost always at his side. Nothing Dagur did seemed to change Hiccup’s opinion of him.

At first, Dagur didn’t let it bother him. Doing odd jobs was a relief compared to being stuck on a boat for days and weeks on end with the only stops being to search islands. But it did grind against his nerves when Hiccup would happily talk to Snotlout and even allow his estranged cousin to hug him. Dagur would watch with jealousy as Snotlout would tease the Hooligan heir about being a bean pole, taller than anyone else on the island when he was once the runt of the tribe and so much tinier than everyone else. Dagur wanted to be able to joke around with Hiccup just as easily.

The first time he saw Heather – he didn’t quite get the opportunity to meet her – she had flown in late in the evening on a silver Razorwhip. She had gone straight to her hut where Hiccup joined her a few minutes later. Dagur had been watching from Fishlegs’s deck as he mulled over what else he could do to get Hiccup to forgive him. A strange feeling hit him like a punch to the gut when he saw Hiccup enter the girl’s hut. Was this girl Hiccup’s girlfriend? Were they sexually involved? Why did that matter?

His mind travelled to the different men and women he had taken to bed over the last few years and how a good share of them he had requested look like Hiccup. He didn’t quite understand why he had done such a thing. He had assumed he wanted to punish Hiccup for leaving Berk and getting him in trouble, but know he wasn’t so sure. He wanted something from Hiccup, and it was more than just forgiveness or friendship. 

He was chopping wood the next morning when the girl left again. He frowned as the silver dragon flew overhead and off to the north. Hiccup emerged shortly after and Dagur wasn’t certain if he had come from his hut or Heather’s. It didn’t matter. There was a sudden shock of anger that rode through Dagur at the sight of Hiccup’s almost artfully tussled hair and sleepy eye, as if he had not slept a wink that night. Dagur had a bunch of guesses why that was, and he tried to bite his tongue, but he was not one for minding his own business.

“Got yourself a girlfriend, I see,” he said absently. He slammed the axe through another log. “Looks pretty enough.”

Hiccup pointedly ignored him and headed toward the woods.

“I’ve had a few,” Dagur continued. He was talking more to himself than Hiccup now, his anger wanting to be spoken aloud. “Pretty ones like her. Pretty ones like you. They all only want one thing. A few silver pieces and a good fuck.”

That must have hit a nerve. Hiccup stopped walking but didn’t turn to face him, instead his hands balled into fists. Dagur watched him, admiring the tension along Hiccup’s back and shoulders. It lasted a moment before Hiccup continued on his way, choosing to continue ignoring Dagur rather than respond. But Hiccup had responded, whether he wanted to admit to it or not, and that eased the tension Dagur had felt clenching his heart. He knocked aside the wood he had cut and embedded the axe into the stump beneath them.

It was time he and Hiccup had a little talk, and if being sweet and helping around the village didn’t work then it was time for some old school bullying. He just hoped he didn’t lose an arm this time. He still had considerable pain in the right one where Hiccup had nearly pulled it out of the socket. That should have made Dagur afraid of him, but it didn’t. That thrill of being taken down and held in place by Hiccup was still there and he honestly looked forward to a rematch.

“Hey, you can’t keep runaway. We need to talk,” he yelled as he followed Hiccup into the woods.

Hiccup ignored him and kept walking. The Night Fury next to him, growled in response.

“So what? You’re going to continue to ignore me? Rather than be a man you’re going to act like a baby and not even listen?”

Hiccup’s steps faltered and he paused for a moment, his hands balling into fists again.

Okay, so he wasn’t completely ignoring Dagur.

“Look, I’m sorry for what I did on Berk. I was a stupid kid doing stupid shit, but you should have just told me the truth,” Dagur pressed on. “Yeah, I may have been a jerk about it but…”

“But what? You would have listened? You wouldn’t have tied me to a tree and slice me open because you thought I was lying?” Hiccup countered. He turned to face him. “The boy who can tame dragons? You would have believed me if I told you that?” He searched Dagur’s eyes. “You would have still tied me to the tree and then hunt down my dragons, or you would have demanded I teach you, like you are now.”

“I’m not asking you to teach me. I just want you to talk to me,” Dagur argued.

Hiccup scoffed at that. “Oh, and what was that back there? You’re suddenly interested in my love life? Just for your information, there’s nothing between Heather and me. She’s my friend.”

“Friend with benefits?”

A dragon like growl escaped Hiccup. He turned away and continued along the path.

“I’m sorry! I just figured…”

But Hiccup was pretty fast, even for only having one real leg. Dagur hurried to catch up. They were getting deeper into the woods and it took a few minutes before Dagur realized they were off the path. This was feeling uncomfortably familiar, but this time he was the one without a weapon.

“What do you want, Dagur?” Hiccup demanded, stopping once more. “You want me to forgive you? Fine. You’re forgiven. Go home.”

“I can’t do that without you.” 

Why wasn’t Hiccup understanding that? All they had to do was go home for a day or two and then Hiccup could come back and live his life however he wanted.

“I’m not going back.” He continued walking.

“What about Stoick, huh? If you don’t go home who will be the next heir of Berk? Snotlout? He’s here. Astrid perhaps? You remember Astrid, right? Pretty blonde, big mouth, tight ass. If I recall, you had a crush on her.”

Hiccup was trying to ignore him again.

“You know what, maybe I will go home,” Dagur tried, deciding it was time to change tactics. If Hiccup didn’t want to listen to reason, then it was time to do what Dagur did best and torment him. “All I really need is proof you’re alive. My men are already heading home and can bring your father here. You can tell himself why you refuse to go home. And you know what? I’ll be a hero. I found Berk’s coward of an heir. Stoick will reward me. Maybe he’ll even let me marry Astrid. I bet she’s grown into a babe by now. She’ll give me a lot of strong sons to help rule over Berserk and Berk.” He could see the tension building in Hiccup at his words. “I bet she’ll be a wild cat in bed. I might have to tie her down and fuck her repeatedly until she’s with child.”

Okay, maybe the last part was going too far, but it got a response.

Hiccup launched himself at Dagur, but this time Dagur was prepared and rolled with him onto the ground.

“Did I hit a nerve?” Dagur taunted.

Hiccup punched him in the jaw, knocking his head sideways. It was a surprisingly hard hit that was sure to leave a bruise. Dagur could taste blood on his lip but he didn’t focus on it. He grabbed Hiccup’s wrist and used his weight to roll them over so that Hiccup was on bottom, foolishly thinking his superior weight would be enough to hold Hiccup down, instead he ended up with a knee to the groin that sent pain shooting up through his body. Hiccup then delivered another punch to his jaw, this one somehow harder. He toppled over as Hiccup scrambled out from under him and got back to his feet. 

While both hits hurt, Dagur found he was also becoming aroused by this new side of Hiccup. He tried to ignore it as he and Hiccup wrestled for the upper hand. Hiccup was fast and strong, but he didn’t have the element of surprise to help him gain the upper hand, and they were in too close of contact for the Night Fury to safely intervene. At one point, Dagur managed to pinned Hiccup against a tree and if he had rope, he would have tied him to it if only to end the fight and talk reason into him, but he quickly realized his mistake when horror filled Hiccup’s eyes and he began to tremble ever-so-slightly. Instead, he threw Hiccup to the ground and straddled him. He pinned Hiccup’s hands to either side of his head, hoping it would be enough to stop him, if only for a few minutes. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Dagur apologized. “The whole thing about Astrid. I just needed a reaction from you.”

Hiccup glared up at him and tried bucking him off but Dagur pressed down harder, placing his full weight on Hiccup’s hips. He tried ignoring how their groins pressed together or the feel of Hiccup’s manhood being directly under him. It was a little swollen, much like his own from the fight. There was always something exciting about facing off with an opponent who truly knew how to fight and could have bested him had he made once wrong move.

“You touch her, and I’ll kill you,” Hiccup promised.

Dagur stared down at him, took in the fierceness in his emerald eyes. Auburn hair was soaked in sweat and sticking to parts of his face. Now that Dagur had him pinned he could finally take a moment to inspect him. He was still incredibly thin, but he was tone and strong and someone Dagur could truly admire. Where were all these attributes before? Why did it take Hiccup running away for him to notice? The tension in Hiccup’s body was so tight that Dagur could feel every inch of it and it stirred the arousal he was already feeling. He thought about all the prostitutes he had slept with over the last few years and how each one had borne a striking resemblance to Hiccup. Yes, he had requested them to be such, but he had never put much thought into why he wanted them as so except to take his frustrations out on them. He hated Hiccup for causing him to be exiled. He hated him for forcing him out to sea for three years, hated him for making him have to search endless islands. He used those men and women to take out his frustrations by pounding into their flesh, but now he had the real thing right here, pinned beneath him just waiting to take the pounding he so rightfully deserved. 

And yet that anger was no longer there. There was something else just as powerful and perhaps even more needy.

“It’s not her I want,” he breathed as he leaned forward.

He let go of Hiccup’s hands and grabbed his head instead.

Hiccup glared at him, obviously thinking something else was about to happen rather than what Dagur did next. He searched Hiccup’s eyes for only a moment, silently pleading for permission to something Hiccup no doubt didn’t understand. When none came, Dagur decided to show him instead. He pressed his lips to Hiccup’s, softly at first as Hiccup gave a surprised yelp at the sudden contact, then more forcefully as Hiccup tried to pull free.

With his hands free, Hiccup managed to shove Dagur off him.

“What the Hel?” he demanded. He scrambled to his feet and stared at Dagur, but not in horror. There was fear but also something else.

Dagur sat on the ground, trying to piece together why he had done what he had done. “Better than fighting,” he finally answered. He glanced at Hiccup. “Have you ever been fucked?”

Hiccup glared at him.

“No, I’m serious,” Dagur persisted. He stood up and faced Hiccup. “I want you so bad it hurts and I’m guessing you’re still a virgin, or you wouldn’t have freaked out just now.”

The younger man didn’t deny it. “We were just fighting. People don’t kiss while they’re fighting.”

“Are you sure? Some of the best sex comes while fighting. Rather than trying to kill each other why not fuck each others’ brains out. Then if you still want me to leave…I’ll go. No more fighting. And you need to call your Night Fury off.”

Hiccup was silent for a moment. “No,” he responded.

Dagur felt his heart drop to his stomach. He was painfully aroused now and judging by the small bulge in Hiccup’s trousers, he would say Hiccup was as well. One good roll will solve both their problems and keep them from killing one another at the same time.

“Toothless stays.”

“What?”

The shadow of fear was back in Hiccup’s eyes. “If we do this, Toothless stays. I’m not taken a chance being alone with you again.”

“Alright,” Dagur agreed. He removed his tunic and threw it aside, expecting Hiccup to undress as well, however, the younger man still looked nervous and stayed near the tree. “What’s wrong?”

That anger and rage that had filled Hiccup over the last few days had melted into confusion and uncertainty. He watched Dagur for several lone minutes but did not undress. He simply stood by a tree and remained silent. It made him look younger but no less handsome. Dagur took a deep breath in realization. Hiccup really was a virgin. His first time was going to be in the woods with Dagur…as it always should have been. Arousal surged through Dagur. Someone’s first time should be in a comfortable bad where a virgin felt safe and not after a fight in the forest, but Dagur wasn’t conventional in that way. This was more suitable for Hiccup’s first time. He was merely a virgin out here; he was a warrior and deserved a warrior’s introduction to sex.

Dagur stalked up to Hiccup. “Tell you what, let’s make this rough. We’ll fight for who gets to top who. If you can pin me you can pound into my ass to your heart’s content, but if I pin you, I get to do that to you. If it comes to a draw…you can ride my cock.”

Hiccup raised a brow. “Option two and three sound similar.”

Dagur hummed. “Except option two, I’m in control while option three allows you to set the pace. Only I get to be in you in either case.”

A small laugh escaped Hiccup, the first Dagur had heard in years. “I don’t think so.” He delivered a surprise punch to Dagur’s ribs, followed by a head bunt.”

Dagur staggered back in surprise but gave Hiccup a grin. “Now, if you were this festy on Berk, we may have got along better.” 

He tried to grab Hiccup, but the younger was quick and dodged out of the way.

“What if I decide halfway through that I don’t want to fuck you, hmm?” Hiccup asked. He rolled out of the way and went to swipe Dagur’s feet out from under him. “Would you rape me? Would you force me to go through with it just because you’re deprived?”

Dagur managed avoid the attack and caught Hiccup’s arm instead, forcing Hiccup’s front against a thick tree. “Do you want to stop? We can stop now and pretend none of this happened. But then you’ll be stuck dealing with this on your own.” He snaked his hand between the treed trunk and Hiccup to reach down and massaged Hiccup’s hardening manhood.

Hiccup bite back a groaned and tried pushing back against Dagur but that only caused the Berserker to press his own erection against Hiccup’s rear. Another small groan escaped him as it triggered something inside of him.

“Face it, Hiccup, this is something we both want, even if you don’t know it yet,” Dagur purred in his ear. “I’ve dreamt of you like this for years.” He began dry humping Hiccup, letting him know exactly how much he wanted him. “You can say no, and I’ll leave right now, or you can take the dive and we can spend the day just fucking each other right here, right now, and enjoy more pleasure than you’ve ever imagined.” His other hand pressed against Hiccup’s lower stomach. “When I get my cock in you, you’ll feel it right here.” He pressed his groin harder against Hiccup’s ass, letting him feel just how thick and hard his length was. “Three years is a long time to wait for the perfect piece of ass.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Hiccup rammed his elbow right into Dagur’s ribs, causing the Berserker to stumble back and release him. 

“Seriously?” Hiccup countered, not at all happy with Dagur’s dirty talk. “You waited three years for this? Was that before or after cutting me up?”

Dagur rolled his eyes at his outburst. In no time they were trading blows again. It was slightly different this time. Each time they tried to pin each other, Dagur would kiss Hiccup, either causing the younger to jerk back in surprise and try to catch Dagur off balance, or momentarily forget the fight. Dagur also made it a point to grope Hiccup whenever he could or grasp a nipple and give it a pinch or little twist. Those were the moves that almost gave Dagur the upper hand as they ended up rolling along the ground. Hiccup ended up on top, but his slight weight wasn’t really enough to hold Dagur down, the knife the Hooligan pulled was.

“Why should I trust you?” he asked, the blade at Dagur’s throat. “Why should I give up my virginity to a man whose sole mission was to make my childhood a living hell?”

Dagur didn’t have a good answer. His hands rested on Hiccup’s thighs, losing holding them even though he wanted to hold them tighter and thrust his hip up against Hiccup’s bottom. Fuck, it felt good having Hiccup sit there. If only there were no clothing separating them.

“You don’t have to trust me,” he told Hiccup. “This isn’t about trust, remember. This is about fucking.”

Hiccup made a small growling sound at that. 

“You won. You’re on top. It’s up to you if you want to be in me or me in you.”

There appeared to be an internal battle happening within Hiccup. He began to bite his lower lip, as if unsure what he should do but knowing he needed to do something. He didn’t stop Dagur when the Berserker grasped his wrist and pulled the knife away. Nor did he stop Dagur when the older man grasped the back of his head and pulled him down into a kiss. He didn’t return it, but he didn’t pull away either, instead he followed Dagur’s movements and lifted his hips when Dagur pulled his trousers down and then eventually off one leg. He inhaled sharply as his ass was grabbed and squeezed.

“Gods, you’re so beautiful,” Dagur whispered as they broke apart. He stuck two fingers in his mouth and coated them in his own saliva. “Had I known we were really going to do this I would have found some lube.” He laughed softly at the confused look Hiccup gave him before sobering. “This is going to hurt. The first time always does, but I’ll go slow. You can still say no.”

Hiccup was silent for a moment before his gaze hardened. “I want it to hurt. I want to remember why I hate you so much.”

That was not the reaction Dagur wanted. He wanted Hiccup to be desperate for him, needy and begging, not wanted sex as a reminder of the past. It triggered Dagur’s own anger, but he held enough control to prep Hiccup. A grin lifted his lips as he pressed one finger into Hiccup. His other hand knotted in Hiccup’s hair and pulled his head back down. “If that’s the case, I’m going to fuck you so hard ‘Legs and Snotty will hear you screaming all the way back in the village.” 

He crushed Hiccup’s lips with his own as he forced the second finger into Hiccup’s tight little hole. He began pumping his fingers in and out, imitating what his cock would be doing shortly. Hiccup struggled a little, grasping and pulling at Dagur’s long red hair, but he was also rocking his hips, grinding against Dagur’s erection, and pressing onto Dagur’s fingers almost eagerly. Virgin or not, Hiccup instinctively knew what he wanted and was trying to take control. Dagur wasn’t about to let him. He was going to make Hiccup beg. 

Bending his fingers just right, he pressed into Hiccup’s prostrate. It sent a shock through Hiccup and he pulled away from the kiss with a cry of surprise. Dagur laughed and did it again, adding a small rotation of his middle finger to stimulate the little bundle of nerves. He could probably wreck Hiccup by this alone, but then Dagur’s needs would not be met. He withdrew his fingers so he could unlace and pull down his own trousers and release his aching dick. He was so hard he feared he might cum right then and there if he didn’t get inside Hiccup soon. He was even more afraid of orgasming the moment his cock got inside Hiccup. Nonetheless, he wet his fingers again and slicked up his length. Gods, he had waited so long for this and now it was finally happening.

“I need you to direct it to your hole, babe,” Dagur said. He held Hiccup’s hips, trying to calm down so he didn’t hurt the younger man. “Just press the head to your opening and slowly sit down on it while I push up.”

Nervousness filled Hiccup, but he did as he was instructed, sorely curious as to what it felt like to take a man’s cock in his ass. If it felt anywhere as good as Dagur’s fingers had, then it was worth the exploration. He treated this as a new discovery and tried to separate what was happening from who it was happening with. It was the only thing that allowed him to go through with it and press the head of Dagur’s cock against his stretched opening. But a fully erect cock was much different from fingers. It stung as it stretched him wider as he pushed down. Dagur pushed up at the same time which in Hiccup’s mind made it all the worse, even if they were going slow. But Berserkers could only go slow for a certain amount of time and before Hiccup could object or decide if he liked the sensation of being filled, Dagur rolled them over so that Hiccup was beneath him and thrust the rest of the way in, causing Hiccup to scream at the sudden invasion. Dagur let out his own cry of triumph as he sunk balls deep into the Hooligan.

“Oh gods, yes!” Dagur shouted. He still held Hiccup’s hips and he knelt between the younger’s legs. “Fuck…you’re so tight!” He gave a few test thrusts, rotating his hips in one direction than the other, as if testing the waters.

Hiccup gasped and whined with every movement. It hurt but it felt oddly good at the same time. When Dagur pulled him back up onto his lap, his cocked rubbed Hiccup’s prostrate, sending blinding pleasure through Hiccup. But the new position put him too close to Dagur’s face for his liking. When he was straddling Dagur before, the Berserker was lying down and only able to pull Hiccup down for kissing that he could have avoided if he wanted. Even with Dagur kneeling between his legs and thrusting there was some distance. This was too intimate, and he didn’t like that. He wanted to be able to imagine someone else which this did not allow as Dagur was insistent on kissing and embracing him. Hiccup tried to focus on rocking his hips and focusing on the thick, hard rod inside him, but it was impossible like this. He did the only thing he could think of, he took charge and forced Dagur back onto the ground and flat on his back. 

Dagur was obviously taken by surprise but did not object as Hiccup desperately rode his length, moving with his dragon in the saddle. He watched Hiccup move, enjoying the friction against his cock as Hiccup rocked, setting his own pace. It actually felt better than thrusting into him and saved some of the work. From time to time, Hiccup would begin bouncing and oh the sensations it sent through Dagur’s length. It was a beautiful sight. Hiccup was beautiful. He loved the way the Hooligan leaned back, just out of reach to ride him. The Hooligan was a loud lover. He made his pleasure known by groaning and crying out each time his prostrate was hit. Dagur loved it. Hiccup was trying to take charge while also losing himself in pleasure. Dagur had never had that with anyone he had taken to his bed before. It was new and exciting, but while he liked Hiccup taking charge, he wanted a faster and harder pace. He tried grabbing Hiccup’s hips to hold him still so he can meet his thrusts, but his hands were slapped away, and Hiccup would tighten his muscles around Dagur’s manhood into almost a chock hold while pressed down on his groin. It felt fabulous and terribly painful all at once. Dagur groaned in delight. If Hiccup would not let him grasp his hips, then he’d settle for the youth’s leaking cock. He stroked it in time to Hiccup’s movements and that set his lover into a frenzy as he tried to ride Dagur’s length and thrust into his hand.

“Fuck…fuck…fuck!” Hiccup shouted. He came with a scream, his seed spilling over Dagur’s hand.

Dagur grinned as Hiccup rode out his orgasm, bouncing even harder on his length. Another shout escaped Hiccup before he finally slowed down and then came to a stop. He sat on Dagur’s still fully erect cock and panted. Sweat covered him head to toe, making his tunic stick to his chest.

“This…this doesn’t change anything,” he suddenly declared before getting up.

Dagur stared at him in disbelief. Hiccup was done so now he was leaving? No, no. That’s not how this works. His legs were a little stiff as he got up but not nearly as bad as how wobbly Hiccup’s were as he tried to get his trousers back on. Dagur grabbed him and pushed him against a tree.

“We’re not done yet,” he growled in Hiccup’s ear. “You don’t get to come and leave me hanging.” He pushed back in with one hard thrust, inciting a cry from his partner. “The deal was we fuck for the rest of the day.”

Hiccup didn’t say no. He didn’t try to stop him. He let Dagur pound into him from behind, moaned and cried out and pressed back for him to go deeper. He screamed through his second orgasm only to have Dagur turn him around to kiss it away before diving back into him. Hiccup’s legs locked around Dagur’s waist as the older man continued fucking him, the thrusts becoming harder and more desperate as he rammed every inch of his length into Hiccup’s tight opening. When Hiccup came a third time, he took Dagur over the edge with him. Dagur hot seed filled Hiccup’s stomach and he clung to the younger man as he pumped every last bit of it into him.

When they finally came to their senses, Dagur hoped to see love and adoration in Hiccup’s eyes. What met him was cold indifference.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Hiccup said again. “I want you off my island…tonight.” 

There was ice in his voice and a sense of finality. Dread filled Dagur.


	10. Chapter 10

Runaways 10

The one thing Fishlegs could always say about Snotlout was that he was bold. He always had been and perhaps that was what he admired most about the shorter man. It could also be extremely annoying, like how he pretty much laid claim on Dragons Edge once he realized that neither Hiccup nor Fishlegs were going to immediately kick him off like Hiccup was trying to do with Dagur. By the end of the first day, he was already laying claim to a plot of land he intended to make his own hut on then had spent the next two trying to get Hookfang to do what he wanted like he had back on Berk. So far, the Monstrous Nightmare all but ignored him. That didn’t deter Snotlout any. He had big plans for his new home, content to stay on the island for as long as Fishlegs was going to. The problem was, he had never built his own hut, only repaired a few back home after crashing into them with Hookfang, so he had snuck into Hiccup hut and stole a roll of fresh parchment that his cousin had made weeks earlier, and now sat at Fishlegs’s table trying to design the home of his dreams. He had rather lofty aspirations.

Fishlegs left him alone, knowing it was best not to stick his two cents in when Snotlout had his heart set on something. But then Snotlout began looking around the hut and asking questions, and well…Fishlegs ended up sitting across from him, offering tips on how he and Hiccup had constructed theirs and for once, Snotlout actually seemed interested in what he had to say. Everything he had to say. The look he gave Fishlegs was not something the larger man was used to. He seemed to be hanging onto every word and that made Fishlegs’s heart flutter in a wild way. No one, except Hiccup and Heather, ever truly listened to him. It excited him and he began to point out how a foundation had to be built first and then the structure, drawing little pictures in the corner to demonstrate what he meant before handing the charcoal back to Snotlout.

It was like electricity raced up his arm when their fingers briefly touched. He jerked his hand back in shock and Snotlout did much the same. For a long moment neither said a word. Fishlegs stared at Snotlout with wide eyes while Snotlout stared back as he chewed on his lower lip in thought.

“I want to try something,” the dark-haired man suddenly announced as he stood.

Fishlegs looked slightly uncomfortable as his friend rounded the table. He turned in his seat to face him and Snotlout still had that thoughtful look on his face. Then, in a strangely tender moment, Snotlout cupped Fishlegs’s cheek, leaned forward, and pressed their lips together. It wasn’t quite a kiss, just the brush of lips, but then it became something more as Fishlegs wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled him closer, then onto his lap. 

They both suddenly froze, as if just realizing what they were doing. Fishlegs opened his mouth to apologize. He hadn’t meant to assume that Snotlout wanted to go any further than an experimental kiss. Words refused to come out. Instead, he found himself staring into Snotlout’s eyes, as if seeing them for the first time. Snotlout seemed shocked for a moment as well before smiling and leaning forward once more to continue kissing, this time grinding into Fishlegs a little as if to silently let his intentions be known, and Fishlegs, despite their past, was all for it.

It certainly felt strange. In all his years knowing Snotlout, Fishlegs never once thought he would have the smaller man sitting on his lap and kissing him. He wasn’t even sure how it started. One moment they were talking about Snotlout building his own hut, the next they were making out. Him and Snotlout, the professed gift to women from Odin. It was surreal, yet it felt right at the same time. 

“Should we move this to the bed?” Snotlout asked.

Fishlegs cupped his ass but hesitated from going any further. He bit his lower lip. He had never had sex with a man before. He and Heather had sort of an open relationship. She came and went as she pleased and sometimes, they got together, but it wasn’t quite they relationship he had hoped to have with her when they began dating – if that’s what they called what they were doing.

“What’s wrong?” Snotlout asked. He touched Fishlegs’s cheek gently to get his attention back. “Are you already with someone? Heather?”

“It’s complicated.” He wasn’t sure how else to explain it.

Snotlout’s eyes widened. “Oh…I didn’t think…I’m sorry.”

He climbed off Fishlegs’s lap, a little embarrassed that he hadn’t thought to consider that Fishlegs may have been in a relationship with someone already. Sure, he and Hiccup were living on this island and there was a young woman who was here from time to time, but they were also dragon riders which meant they could have girlfriends on other islands that they travelled to now and then. And even if they didn’t, he should have known better than to start making out with his friend. There had never been sexual tension between them before, why should there be any now?

He turned to leave but Fishlegs’s large hand caught his. 

“I didn’t say we had to stop, I just said it’s complicated,” Fishlegs explained. His lips curved up into a smile. “So…you still want to do this on the bed?”

Snotlout grinned as well. “Or you can bend me over the table.”

Fishlegs shook with laughter at the suggestion. This was Snotlout, of course he would suggest such a thing. Once upon a time Fishlegs may have worried about whether doing such a thing against a table was sanitary but now it wasn’t such an issue.

“So, you’re suggesting a ‘quicky’?” he asked for clarification.

Snotlout thought about it for a moment. “As I see it, if we go to your bed we’re not leaving for the rest of the day. If we do it here, then we can do whatever we have to after then spend the entire night together.”

“Dagur may need to find another place to sleep tonight.”

“Give him a tent and he’ll be happy camping.”

Fishlegs shook his head, still full of mirth at the idea that they were about to actually have sex. “I’ve got lube upstairs.”

Snotlout stopped him from retrieving it. “I’ve got this.”

He undid the ties to Fishlegs’s trousers and pulled them down to pool around Fishlegs’s ankles. He hummed at the sight of Fishlegs’s semi hard manhood. It was thick, really thick, and a good length with a slight upward curve. Snotlout made sure to keep eye contact with Fishlegs as he knelt before him. Fishlegs’s eyes were hooded with desire as Snotlout took his length in his hands and began slowly stroking it while flicking his tongue over the bulbous head. A small whimper escaped the larger man. It was a sound Snotlout very much enjoyed. He rubbed his face over the length, taking in the heady musky scent. He could feel Fishlegs hardening in his hand. Before it got too much harder, he took it in his mouth and began sucking. It was his first time doing this, but he had listened to enough of Dagur’s and the other Berserkers’ stories about what they had done in the brothels, and he had been fortunate enough to experience it once or twice when he had gotten desperate enough to want to experience for himself. He had a woman going down on him once and the feeling was so amazing that he wanted Fishlegs’s to experience it as well. He didn’t care if his friend came in his mouth or not, it was the least he could offer him after so many years of mistreating Fishlegs.

He hummed softly as Fishlegs’s large fingers knotted in his hair.

“No, no, no,” Fishlegs begged, completely confusing Snotlout.

The larger youth pulled Snotlout back to his. “As much as I love that mouth, if I cum in it we won’t be able to go any further,” he explained. He pressed his lips to Snotlout’s. “Maybe tonight. Right now…” He turned Snotlout around and all up yanked his pants down. “…I want to hear you crying out my name.”

Despite saying that out loud, Fishlegs knew they still needed some sort of lube to make it happen. He was more than double Snotlout’s size both his body and his dick. He knew from experience that he would tear Snotlout if they didn’t do it properly. He grabbed the butter off the table. It wasn’t idea but it was better than nothing. He buried his fingers in the soft substance, coating them, then brought them to Snotlout’s opening. It didn’t take a lot of work. Snotlout was perfectly relaxed and wanting. He wiggled his bottom as Fishlegs worked his opening. It wasn’t long before he could fit three fingers in the smaller man.

“Please, ‘Legs, just fuck me already,” Snotlout begged, pressing back into the fingers. “Stick that thing in me and get on with it.” He yelped a moment later when Fishlegs swatted his ass. “Fuck, yeah, do that.”

Fishlegs slapped his rear again. He hummed softly at the reaction Snotlout had to it. The smaller man whined and pushed back against Fishlegs. He didn’t need any other invitation. He took Snotlout’s hips in his large hands and pushed into him. Snotlout gave a small hiss but pressed back as well, taking Fishlegs in until they were pressed firmly together and Fishlegs was buried to the hilt.

“Oh fuck, yes,” Snotlout breathed. “You’re huge!”

“Are you okay?” Fishlegs asked, worried that he was too large.

Snotlout hummed. “Oh, yeah. Perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

Fishlegs stared at him in shock. No one had called him perfect before. He began thrusting slowly, measuring every thrust to make sure he didn’t hurt the other man. Snotlout was tight, his muscles rippling all around Fishlegs’s length. The sounds Snotlout made were intoxicating and as he began calling out Fishlegs’s name, begging for more, Fishlegs accommodating him. His pace increased until all either of them could hear was the cry of each other’s names, grunts, cries, and the slapping of wet flesh.

Fishlegs came with a cry, his seed pumping deep into Snotlout. Through it all, Snotlout was jerking himself off, trying to match Fishlegs’s thrust. He felt the wet heat fill him. It was erotic and his stomach bubbled at the sensation. His own orgasm came a moment later, his seed spilling onto the table.

When they were done, Fishlegs hurried found some rags to clean themselves off with before fixing their trousers.

“Wow,” was all Fishlegs could say as he sat back down. “That was…did I hurt you?”

Snotlout’s legs were a little wobbly as he sat down in another chair. “Nah, it’s the good type of hurt. No regrets.” He gave Fishlegs a slight worried look but was reassured when the other man smiled at him.

“Same,” Fishlegs confirmed. He had no regrets whatsoever after having sex with Snotlout. In fact, he felt better than he had in an awfully long time. He felt a little giddy from the whole experience.

“So now what?” Snotlout asked. He had the same silly smile Fishlegs had and it echoed in his voice.

Fishlegs shrugged. “Do you want to go flying?”

Snotlout thought about it for a moment. “Not what I was thinking…but alright. I’m sure Hookfang missed me, too.” 

He hadn’t flown on Hookfang since arriving on the island. His dragon was still a little skittish of him around him. Snotlout tried not to take it personally. Three years was a long time and Thor only knows what his dragon had been through without him there to protect him, but it was time they got reacquainted, especially if they were supposed to help defeat this Green Death. Thankfully, Hiccup and Fishlegs had developed a training facility of sorts. It wasn’t like the Training Academy on Berk. It was larger and encompassed almost the entire island that was Dragon’s Edge, and the challenges were much more advanced.

. . .

Pain radiated through Hiccup’s entire body as he sat on the rocking chair. He had built only a few months ago after Heather suggested that the rocking motion might help ease his anxiety, especially if he was the one moving and controlling it. Oddly enough it usually worked. He would have liked to have blamed his current situation on Dagur and what they had done in the woods, but while his neither regions did hurt from having sex with the Berserker, the real pain came from his stump. He removed his prosthetic and placed it on the side table then rested his legs on the wooden ottoman in front of the rocking chair. It served the dual purpose of elevating his left leg while giving his right something to push against while he slowly rocked. Toothless curled around the chair and ottoman, careful not to get any limps pinched while Hiccup slowly rocked.

“You seem more stressed than usual,” a soft voice greeted. 

Hiccup glanced over to the front door. He had forgotten to lock it in his haste but was now glad he hadn’t as Heather walked in.

“Between the oncoming storm and…” His voice faltered. Heather was like a sister to him. They had been through a lot since finding each other once more and renewing their friendship and become incredibly close, but he wasn’t sure just how much to tell her, especially when it came to his sexuality and what just happened with Dagur.

She raised a curious brow. “And?” she probed. When Hiccup didn’t immediately answer she perceptively took note of his disheveled and tense posture. “Well, given that you currently have a cushion under your but and you look like you wrestled a Rumblehorn…I’m going to guess you and Dagur either got into another Glima competition or had some really good sex.” It was meant to be teasing but her eyes widened when Hiccup’s cheeks turned red. “You did! Did he…was it consensual?”

He made a small whining sound, a sound he often made when he didn’t want to talk about something. “Can we talk about something else?”

She swatted his right foot off the ottoman and took its place, even going so far as to take his stomp and begin massaging it to help ease the stress he was feeling. “Hiccup, this guy bullied you as a kid and then after three years shows up here claiming to be searching for you to bring you home.”

“All he cares about is getting his honor back and avoiding murder charges,” Hiccup countered. “He’s stuck his because his men marooned him and Snotlout.”

“Are you sure about that?”

He gave her a small glare. If he were honest, he would admit that he was asking himself the same question. He didn’t like the answer. “What would he have to gain by staying here?”

She hummed softly as she kneaded the tense muscles around the stump. “Was it consensual? Did you agree to have sex with him? How did it happen?”

He sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go. “We were arguing. I guess he was trying to rile me up or something by being his usual jerk self. Next thing I knew he was kissing me and then he made this stupid suggestion about sex. I don’t know why but I agreed.” He threw his hands up. “I agreed! Why would I do that? I hate him. I don’t want sex with him.”

“Did he force you to do anything you didn’t want?”

Frustration hit him as he was forced to think about everything that had happened only a few short hours ago. “No! That’s the worse part. Even when I went to walk away after the first round, he pinned me to a tree and kept going and…I didn’t want him to stop. I hurt but I wanted it. I wanted it to hurt. I wanted to hate him through the whole thing but…but I couldn’t.” He pulled his hair in frustration.

Heather was confused. “You ‘wanted it to hurt’? Hiccup, that makes no sense.”

“I wanted it to hurt because I wanted him to see be that monster that tormented me as a kid. I wanted to hate him and have a reason to kick him off the island. I wanted him out of my life for good.” He took a deep breath, unsure if he was making any sense. “Ever since he arrived, he’s been doing every chore imaginable to try to prove himself to me. The animals have more food than ever before. There’s enough straw stockpiled to do a farm three times this size, enough firewood to last the entire winter for all three huts, plus the forge. He’s been fixing fences, bringing water. He hasn’t stopped working. I don’t know how to feel. A part of me is annoyed just by his very presence, another is thankful for everything he’s done. I want to hate him, Heather. I want to hate him with every fibre of my being but…I don’t know what I feel anymore.”

“That’s why you agreed to have sex with him, because you wanted him to hurt you?” she asked.

He nodded. “You’ve seen the scars. You know what he did to me. How am I supposed to forgive him for that? I thought if he hurt me again, then I’d have reason to keep hating him.” There were tears beginning to trek down his cheeks. “He has done so many horrible things to so many people…how am I expected to think he’s changed?”

She carefully set his stump back on the ottoman and went to him. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him into an embrace. “I don’t know, Hiccup, but I do know this hate and anger you feel is making you sick.” She pulled back to look into his red shot eyes as she ran her thumb over the darkness under one. “You haven’t slept since he arrived, have you?” The look he gave her was enough to confirm that.

“What am going to do?” he asked, in a small voice that made him seem almost sixteen again.

“You’re going to stop worrying about Dagur. You don’t need to forgive him, but you do need to accept he’s here. For however long that is. There’s no way for him to leave the island. The trader won’t be here for another week or two and as you said, there’s a storm approaching, and it’s a big one.” She sat on the arm of the rocking chair. “Plus…the Green Death is becoming more aggressive. The Dragon Hunters had to pull out. It’s too much for them. And Mala and Atali refuse to help. I can’t say I blame them; I’d rather not have to it either, but I don’t think we have any choice anymore. If the Hunters can’t relocate it then we have to put it down.”

That was not the news Hiccup wanted to hear. While he didn’t like the Dragon Hunters or what they did for a living, he kept away from them, but they specialized in capturing and killing dragons further north and had been tasked with handling the Green Death situation. Hiccup knew from experience challenging one of the Deaths would not be an easy task and had been trying to figure out a back up plan, similar to what he and the dragon riders had done on Berk. But here he only had half the riders, more now that Snotlout was with them. Nonetheless, he was hesitant as memories of that battle and his near death haunted him.

“Hiccup, you have to teach Dagur to ride a dragon,” Heather insisted. She placed a hand on his arm. “You’re the best one for it. Or I can teach him. He can ride Stomfly.”

That was like a punch to the gut, and Hiccup was certain that was Heather’s intent. Only one person was allowed to fly Stormfly, and Hiccup intended to keep it that way unless Stormfly herself choose another rider. “No. I’ll…I’ll find dragon for him.” He thumped his head against the back of the chair. “I can’t believe I’m going to be training Dagur of all people to ride a dragon.”

Heather pressed a kiss to his forehead. “If anyone can, you can.”

He caught her wrist as she went to get up. “Oh no, no, no. I’m not the only one getting saddled with this. You want me to train him, you’re helping me.”

A delighted laugh escaped her. “You just want me there to keep you focused and training and not fucking.”

“Ha-ha…when did you become a comedian?”

“Same day you lost your virginity,” she teased. She pinched his arm as she pulled away. “For someone who hates someone so much, you at lease like one part of him.”

He grasped his prosthetic and lobbed it toward her as she headed for the door. “Brat!” 

He completely missed and she laughed merrily at his efforts. “See you in the morning, teach!” she called back with a parting wave.

Hiccup sat back. He hated when she was right – about teaching Dagur to ride a dragon and not necessarily all the rest. But she was right, they needed more riders and Dagur may be their only hope.


	11. Chapter 11

Runaways 11

Hiccup had a lot of misgivings about teaching Dagur to ride a dragon. One, he honestly didn’t think Dagur would be able to bond with a dragon, and secondly, he didn’t think Dagur had the patience needed to learn not only to ride but to work with a dragon. The say he was pleasantly surprised to wrong on both accounts was an understatement. Dagur bonded with a green Gronkle in a surprisingly short period of time, and while there were bumps along the way, within a few days the two were working together as if they had been doing so for years. Regardless, Hiccup kept a close eye on him as the riders went through drills and discussed the known weaknesses of the Green Death. Much of it came from what he had learned fighting the Red Death.

“So, our primary goal is to get it out of the mountain and into the air. From there, Toothless and I can handle it,” he told the team as they sat around the campfire after another training session. “Just like last time.”

Both Fishlegs and Snotlout exchanged an uneasy look.

Hiccup caught it. He understood their fear better than anyone thought. “Hey, Toothless’s tailfin is fireproof now. We won’t run into the same problems as last time.”

His two friends still seemed uneasy.

“I don’t know, Hiccup,” Heather interjected. “Windshear and I could take the shot. We could get high enough and…”

“I appreciate the worry, everyone, but Toothless and I have done this before. We know where to shoot.” He raised a hand to stop his friends from trying to persuade him otherwise. “But I would appreciate everyone to be prepared…in case something happens. Medical supplies packed and ready, as well as enough survival supplies in case we get stuck there for a day or two. We won’t have any back up, so we need to rely on each other.”

Begrudgingly, everyone agreed. None of the surrounding tribes were willing to help. They were on their own which meant if something happened, then they had to take care of each other, regardless how bad it got. They were preparing for the worst.

“Okay, we should all call it an early night,” he announced as he stood up. “We should head to Dragon Island II at dawn and get this done and over with, that way we’ll still have the sun with us if…anything happens. Heather, can you send Atali a Terror Mail and let her know. I know the Wing Maidens won’t fight with us, but they may take in the injured.”

She nodded as she got to her feet. “I will, let’s just hope it doesn’t come to take.” 

“I’ll make sure Mala and Throk know where we are,” Fishlegs offered as he stood as well. “They’re not going to be happy but at least they understand why we have to do it. If something happens…at least they’ll know where to look.” He helped Snotlout to his feet. “So…uh, we’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Snotlout grinned and gave Hiccup a mock salute. “Later, losers,” he called, sounding like his old self even though he was still holding Fishlegs’s hand.

Hiccup raised a brow but grinned at his cousin’s antics. Oddly enough, he kind of missed Snotlout – although he was never going to admit that to the Jorgenson. They had a small family feud that would likely last several more generations or until it finally worked out between both families.

He was a little taken aback when he noticed Dagur had yet to leave the campfire. The Berserker was watching Heather. The two had barely spoken more than two words to one another, most likely due to all the training over the last few days, and Heather’s in ability to sit still for long. Nonetheless, Dagur was giving her a longing look, one that cause something in Hiccup’s stomach to twist.

“You know, she’s the one that convinced me to train you,” Hiccup said. He sat back down on the tree stump and stared after his friend. “I probably would have sent you out in that storm.” That was a lie, but he wasn’t about to admit it either. “Unfortunately, she’s already attached to someone on another island.”

“Hmm?” Dagur asked. He blinked in sudden understanding and turned to face Hiccup. “No…No! Good Thor, no. She just reminds me of someone. I’ve wanted to talk to her about it but…maybe after the battle tomorrow, if we all survive.”

“Ah…” Hiccup nodded. That would probably be a good idea. They all had too much on their plates without adding to it.

“Besides, I wanted to talk to you about the other day,” Dagur began. He rested his elbows on his knees and met Hiccup’s gaze.

“That is something that can wait until…”

“No, it can’t,” Dagur said sternly. 

Hiccup felt his shoulders tense at how dark Dagur’s gaze was and how the flames from the campfire flickered in them. 

“Look, that didn’t happen the way I planned it…actually, I had no plan. I never thought… Let me try again.” He took a deep breath. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did to you. I was mad, but that didn’t give me the right.”

“Dagur…”

“I’ve spent three years hunting you down, searching very island in the Archipelago and beyond. I hated you for it, but I hated myself for driving you to it.” He turned back to the fire. “I read your journals. I know you hated me…hated the things I used to do to you. I didn’t get it at first, but I do now. I was an asshole and I treated you like shit, but I don’t want to do that anymore. I want to be a better person. I want us to be friends…to be more than friends. I understand if you don’t want to. What I did in the woods was inexcusable, so when this whole thing with the Green Death is over, if we survive, I’ll leave.”

Hiccup bit his lower lip and looked into the darkness. “Where would you go? Would Berserk accept you without my return.”

Dagur shrugged his shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t really care. Maybe I’ll make a new home somewhere. Dad will just have to find another heir, but…”

“But?”

“I’d much rather stay with you.”

Hiccup sighed. He still wasn’t sure about his feelings for Dagur. He couldn’t reconcile why he enjoyed what he and Dagur had done in the woods or why he had been fantasizing about it since. Frustrated by his own emotions, he grabbed the bucket of water and doused the fire then kicked sand over the remains to ensure it was extinguished. He wasn’t sure how to answer Dagur, was afraid what might come out of his mouth if he tried. Instead, he headed to his hut, knowing Dagur would likely sleep in the tent he had set up not far away.

Dagur seemed a little sluggish as he stared at the smoking remains of the fire. It took another moment or two before he realized Hiccup was leaving him. Once he did, he hurried got to his feet and followed the Hooligan heir and Night Fury to his hut.

“Wait,” he gasped as he followed Hiccup inside. He stared at Hiccup in bewilderment. “You have nothing to say to that? You have nothing to say to the fact that I want to be with you?”

Hiccup returned the stare with one of puzzlement. “What do you want me to say, Dagur? Thanks, but it’ll never work out. That you may have changed you attitude today but what about tomorrow? That I want to have a relationship with a lunatic and potential murderer?”

“I’ve never killed anyone,” Dagur objected.

Hiccup pursed his lips. “You nearly killed me.”

“That was three years ago!”

Hiccup nodded. “Yeah, and I live with it every day. Do you? Do you know what it’s like being stitched back together by a friend with a broken arm? The stitches don’t line up. The skin pulls in the wrong direction. Those scars will be with me for the rest of my life…thanks to you.”

“Snotlout was the one who caused Fishlegs to break his arm.”

“That’s not the point, Dagur!” Hiccup suddenly yelled, startling both Dagur and Toothless. “Every time I sleep, I have nightmares of being tied to that tree. I keep thinking of what would have happened if you had cut a little deeper or if a boar had found me before I reached Toothless. Do you know what’s it’s like feeling as if you’re going to die every single night for three years? And just when I think I might finally be healing from all that you show up. You come back into my life and all that fear came flooding back. That’s why I practice Glima, to fight you. To calm my mind so I can focus because if I continue to let my fear eat at me it WILL eventually kill me.” He sniffled and wiped at his eyes. Gods, he felt ridiculous telling Dagur any of this, but it was all pouring out now and he couldn’t stop his words or take them back. “What happened the other day shouldn’t have happened. I don’t even know why I let it. I should have said no.”

“But you didn’t,” Dagur said gently. He moved slowly toward Hiccup with his hands risen like Fishlegs had days earlier. “Why? Was it really because you needed a reason to keep hating me?”

“I don’t know,” Hiccup admitted.

“Did you at least enjoy it?”

Hiccup closed his eyes, unable to answer, but he gave a tiny nod.

Dagur smiled softly at him. Very gently he pulled Hiccup’s hands away from his face and leaned up the few inches that separated them, still unable to believe Hiccup was now taller than him. He pressed his lips against the other man’s in a soft kiss. 

“This may be our last night alive, let me make love to you. Actual love, not sex,” he specified. “If you think sex in the woods felt good you haven’t felt anything yet.”

Hiccup stared at him through teary eyes, but he consented. He let Dagur lead up to the loft where his bed was not quite meant for two. But they made it work as Dagur put his entire focus on worshipping Hiccup’s body, kissing every puckered scar he had ever caused as well as new and older ones. His lips did not miss one inch of Hiccup’s lithe body. He kissed and nipped, suckled, and licked while discovering every sensitive part of Hiccup, grinning when the youth would buck up against him in need. If they were to die in battle the next day then sight of Hiccup arching and writhing beneath him, his hands clenching at the blankets as he moaned, cried, and screamed in utter pleasure, was something Dagur would happily take with him to Valhalla with him. 

. . .

The Green Death was monstrous, larger than the Red Death and just as fierce if not more so. The riders blew around it, doing their best to avoid its fiery breath as the dragons under its control scattered toward the heavens. Hiccup held the lead, directing the riders as he had all those years ago. It was the same species of dragon. And of course, like back then, Snotlout jumped on its back, hoping to take out it’s eyes as he did the Red Death. However, this time it was only to give the dragons under its control enough time to vacate the area while it was distracted, but unlike before, the moment those dragons were clear, Hookfang flew in to gather his rider while the other riders created a target for it to chase.

“We just need to get it out to sea,” Hiccup yelled to Heather. “From there we’ll get it to chase us into the clouds.”

“I still don’t like this,” Heather reminded him. “What if…”

“We don’t have any choice. When we make the climb, I need those spikes lined up on the ground. I’m not taking chances. I want to kill to clean and as painless as possible for it.” 

He knew that would be impossible even as he said it. He loved dragons and didn’t want harm to come to any of them, but this dragon was causing devastation to tribe within a hundred-mile radius. People were dying, either from starvation due to the dragon still food to feed the Green Death or kidnapping people to feed it. They had no choice but to put an end to it.

She nodded in agreement. The spikes had been carefully placed in such a way that by turning a pully a dozen spikes would rise. There were four pullies, one for each of the riders while the Green Death chased Hiccup. If things went according to plan, the monstrous dragon would crash into them, killing it outright rather than letting it simply burn to death from the inside. Hiccup’s hope was that this would be faster and more humane.

Snotlout gave a shout and Hiccup turned to see the huge dragon spread its wings. 

“Here we go,” Hiccup warned the others.

Toothless flew ahead as the other riders broke flank. With a flip of his tail, the Night Fury spun around mid-flight and fired a plasma blast at the much larger dragon. It was supposed to get the dragon to chase after him, but the Green Death was on top of them much faster than the Red had been. Toothless managed to dodge a return blast but it sent them into a tailspin that cost them precious time. The Green Death reared and turned back to fire again.

“Oh Gods,” Hiccup breathed as a larger leathery wing just missed knocking them out of the sky. “Toothless, we need to get above her.”

But that was easier said than done. The Green Death was huge and all around them, as if knowing what they had planned and was trying to force them into the sea. It didn’t matter what direction they went they were blocked by grasping limps, pumping wings, snapping jaws, or a tail that whipped back and forth. This dragon was used to humans hunting it and dealt with them accordingly. It explained the number of wrecked ships littering the waters. They had not been blasted to bits like those on Dragons Island I, these were crushed and forced into the water, the Vikings onboard drowning. Hiccup and Toothless were about to join them if they couldn’t figure a way out from under it. They could dive in the and swim past if it were not for the giant eels. Toothless was beginning to panic the closer they got to the water.

A series of blasts from above caused the Green Death to rise up with a roar. Fiery boulders were being shot at it’s eyes by Shatter Master, Dagur’s Gronkle. The Berserker yelled obscenities at the humongous creature, trying to draw it higher in the sky. Toothless hurried out from under the Green Death but they were unable to join Dagur or take the lead. The Green Death turned toward the Gronkle faster than expected. Its tail whipped back and forth in agitation, the bludgeon end hitting Toothless in the side and sending him and Hiccup tumbling back toward the island and other riders. They hit the beach in a tangled pile, but other than some bruising, they were otherwise uninjured. Thankfully, they missed the first line of spikes that Fishlegs had already risen.

Hiccup immediately checked to make sure Toothless was alright before watching in horror as Dagur and Shatter Master led the Green Death toward the clouds. 

“Dagur!” he yelled after them. Neither man nor dragon could hear him but that didn’t quench the sudden fear that tightened around his heart. “What is he thinking? A Gronkle is not fast enough. He’ll never get the distance he needs for Shatter Master to get a good shot.”

“Hiccup, we don’t have a choice, we need to get the spikes in place and hope for the best,” Fishlegs urged.

Heather and Snotlout were pulling the second and third rows of spiked into place. Hiccup patted Toothless on the head. His dragon was hurting but would recover. He hurried to the last pully and began getting the last set of spikes into place.

. . .

Dagur could feel the heat of the Green Death’s fire breath on him and Shatter Master has they continued climbing higher. He knew the chances of them surviving were not in their favor. He didn’t expect them to be and he accepted that. But it was better than allowing Hiccup to drown or even have to go through this again. If he had to sacrifice his life to save Hiccup’s, to save all of them, then he would gladly give his life for them.

“Higher, Shatter Master, higher. Just a little longer, bud. Almost there.” He glanced down. They were aligned with the spikes on the island far below and he could just make out the other riders and their dragons retreating to cover. He wasn’t sure exactly how high Hiccup had wanted them to go but it was now or never. The Green Death on practically on top of them. “Now, Shatter Master! Boulder Inferno!”

The Gronkle didn’t have very many remaining after luring the Green Death away from Hiccup and Toothless but it spun around and emptied out what it had left into the monster’s open mouth as it was about to fire on them. The Green Death roared at them then seemed to choke as the boulders hit the back of its throat and lit the gasses within that allowed it to breath fire.

“Drop!” Dagur ordered. 

He hoped the Gronkle could drop out of the air fast enough to avoid being hit by the Green Death as it fell out of the sky and then zip out of the way before the larger dragon hit the ground. It partially worked. They were able to avoid the sudden onslaught of fire as the Green Death began burning from the inside out, but the creature was much larger than a Gronkle and when Shatter Master controlled his fall in an attempt to zip away, he got slapped by a huge wing that sent both dragon and rider spinning out of control and slamming into the ground, moments before the Green Death.

The last thing Dagur remembered was Hiccup screaming his name before darkness consumed him.


	12. Chapter 12

Runaways 12

A thick, choking layer of ash and soot, mixed with the acrid scent of charred flesh covered the island after the Green Death crashed into the spikes and hard ground. It formed a wall that was near impossible to see through, leaving the riders to contend with shadows that distorted their surroundings. However, that didn’t stop them from searching for Dagur and his dragon. They each formed face coverings to keep from inhaling the toxic fumes and while it helped, it did not make the search any easier. They yelled and called for both Dagur and Shatter Master, but the island was now eerily quiet. There was not a sound expect the riders’ own voices and the crunching of dirt beneath their feet.

Guilt immediately filled Hiccup. This should have been him, not Dagur. He had armor, Dagur didn’t. Hiccup had been prepared to die to save the surrounding islands from the Green Death, Dagur hadn’t. He never should have gotten Dagur involved. If he died…

His stomach nearly bottomed out at the very thought. He had spent years hating Dagur for everything he had done to him growing up, for slicing him up and using him as bait, but through it all he never really wanted Dagur to die in revenge or any other reason. All he ever wanted was Dagur to accept him and be his friend. The last few days had proven they could be that and so much more, and now it may have all been for nothing. Yes, Dagur saved his life but at the expense of his own. How would he explain that to Oswald the Agreeable? How could he? Dagur had saved them, may have died a hero, yet no one may ever know unless Hiccup returned to Berk and he wasn’t sure if he ever could, not with this guilt eating away at him.

“Hiccup!” Fishlegs called from somewhere in the dense fog of ash. “I found them!”

“Oh, thank Thor,” Hiccup breathed. 

He and Toothless hurried in the direction of their friend’s voice. The area was a virtual war zone mixed with crushed spikes, many of which were lodged inside the now dead Green Death. Hiccup hated the idea of killing any dragon and it hurt his heart to know he had been the cause of another one, but they had had no choice, he reminded himself as he neared Fishlegs. They had to put it down, regardless of their personal feelings.

The others had rushed over as well. Fishlegs had indeed found Dagur and Shatter Master. The Gronkle was limping about, one wing visibly broken. He pawed at the ground near a bunch of broken rumbles he no doubt just dug himself out from under, which meant Dagur could possibly still be trapped beneath it. Carefully, the remaining riders began carefully removing broken spikes and pieces of dragon that were still simmering from its internal fire.

“I see a hand,” Snotlout announced. 

He threw several large chunks of wood aside, revealing first a hand and then arm while the others dug around, loosening the spikes and rumble. Soon Dagur’s dirty and all but crushed form was in view. Soot covered him from head to toe and it was near impossible to make out just how bad his injuries were. Regardless, Hiccup removed his helmet and pressed his left ear to Dagur’s chest. There was a faint thump, a weak heartbeat, but while it was weak, it was still a sign of life. Very gently, he and Fishlegs felt along Dagur’s battered body, locating possible breaks and lacerations. His face was heavily bruised and torn across the right side. It was hard to tell if there was any damage to his right eye under all the blood. Thankfully, he still had all his limbs.

“We need to get him to Atali,” Heather urged. She moved to help lift Dagur up but Fishlegs stopped her.

“His neck or spine may be broken. We need to make a stretcher and transport him that way,” he explained. “We can’t treat him here, but we can try to minimize and further damage.”

She was hesitant but then nodded and took Snotlout with her to get was they needed to fashion a quick but stable stretcher.

“He shouldn’t have done it,” Hiccup breathed as he tried to rubbed soot of Dagur’s face. “It should have been me.”

Fishlegs caught his hand. “He did it to save you, to save all of us.”

“But…why?”

Fishlegs stared at him for a few moments before squeezing his hand. “You know why.”

He didn’t want to admit it, but Hiccup was sure he knew the answer. It was trapped in his chest and buried around years of anger that was just beginning to heal. It seemed the gods really must hate him to put him through all that they had, the hand him a second chance at happiness only to snatch it away again.

The stretcher was made quickly, using the rope from the pullies to tie together and secure it. From there, Fishlegs carefully rolled Dagur onto his side while Hiccup held his head, fearful of possible damage to his neck. Once Dagur was laying flat on the stretcher, Fishlegs instructed everyone to gather their rolls and blankets from their saddle bags. Three were used to Dagur’s head still, one on either side of his head and another under his neck. They used one of Hiccup’s belts to strap his head down while securing the rolls. Two more blankets were used to cover Dagur and keep him warm, hopefully starving off shock until they could get help, and more rope was used around his chest, arms, and legs to keep the rest of him from moving about during transport. The last of the rope was used to connect each of the corners of the stretcher to Toothless’s saddle. While they couldn’t fly fast with Dagur in this condition, Hiccup was not willing to let anyone else carry the responsibility of getting Dagur to Atali. As far as he was concerned, Dagur was his responsibility and he took that seriously. It would weigh heavily on his shoulders.

. . .

The Wing Maidens were a tribe of all women and they rarely accepted men on their island with open arms. Hiccup and Fishlegs had fought hard to form an alliance with them and it were only due to good fortune and the fates that Atali and Midden had come across them when they were still new to the area and in need of help. They were still very new to being out on their own and struggling to survive. While they were forbidden to live amongst the Maidens, Atali made sure they had what they needed to live on Dragons Edge by themselves. Heather’s later arrival and friendship with the boys had helped keep that friendship alive. Now they were relying on the Maiden’s healer to save Dagur.

The male riders had made it their mission to clean Dagur as best they could without moving him. His clothing was cut off of him so that they could get a good look at his injuries. Bruising already covered most of his body and he had at least four broken ribs, his left wrist broken, and right shoulder dislocated, as well as his right hip which likely happened when he hit the ground. It looked as if he might have tried rolling with the fall but didn’t quite succeed with his Gronkle and then the Green Death practically falling on top of him. Thankfully, his lungs had not been pierced by the broken ribs. While all this damage was extensive, it was not life threatening and most could be set or wrapped tightly to heal. No, that would be another injury that none of them knew had to handle.

“He has swelling on the brain,” the healer told Hiccup after thoroughly checking Dagur over. “And his neck is broken. It is unlikely he will survive the night. If he does, he may never be able to walk again.”

Hiccup shook his head. “No, there has to be something you can do. He saved our lives…we can’t…I can’t…”

She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I know you care for him very much, Hiccup, but I suggest making your peace with him and let him go.”

His eyes widened in horror at her words. He shook his head and took a step back. “There’s nothing more you can do? Is there another healer? There has to be something…someone who can fix him.”

“I’m sorry.” 

She left him as the other riders came back from the dinning hall. Hiccup slumped on the chair next to Dagur, feeling lost for the first time in years. He told them what the healer had told him, of the swelling in Dagur’s brain and the broken neck, of the chances that Dagur may never recover and may even die overnight.

He leaned forward and balanced his elbows on his thighs. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Is there anyone else who can help?” Snotlout asked, almost as desperate as Hiccup. “What about that Mala chick?”

His cousin shook his head. “If she found out Dagur killed the Green Death she’ll kill him herself. She doesn’t like outsiders, and she was against us killing it to begin with…even if it may have saved countless lives, including her tribe.”

“We have to do something,” Heather insisted. She swallowed hard. “What about…what about the Hunters? The Grimborns supposedly have the best medicine in the Northern Markets.”

Hiccup shook his head again. He didn’t even want to consider them. While they may have had the same goals as the Hunters in removing the Green Death, the Hunters were after ALL dragons, including the riders.

“Hiccup, we’re running out of options,” Fishlegs said quietly. “If Dagur is dying, the least we can do is make him comfortable for the transition. He’ll be honored in Valhalla for his great deed. He saved not just us but countless others. It’s the least we can do.”

Snotlout looked dejected as he sat on one of the stools. “Three years searching and comes to this,” he muttered. “Remind me not to go on anymore Death hunts. They only end in this…or that?” He gestured to Hiccup’s prosthetic. “Except this time, we don’t have Gobber or Gothi.”

“Gothi,” Hiccup whispered softly to himself. He held a hand over his mouth in thought. Gothi was like magic. She could heal just about anything and had in fact dealt with brain swelling before, when Bucket was hit by lightning many years ago. Berk was quite a distance away but perhaps…just perhaps. “Saddle up, gang. We’re taking Dagur to Berk.”

Stunned silence met him as his friends stared at him in bewilderment.

“Hiccup…are you sure?” Fishlegs asked timidly. “Is this really what you want?”

Hiccup met his gaze. “It doesn’t matter what I want right now, Fishlegs, it’s what he needs. He needs Gothi and the least we can do is not make him comfortable and let him pass on to Valhalla, not while he still has a fighting chance, it’s to get him the help he needs. If Odin decides it Dagur’s time along the way or after we get there…then…” He fought back tears, blinking them away when they threatened to blind him. “Then we will honor that, but not while there’s a chance Gothi can help him.”

Snotlout began nodding. “Alright. Let’s go.”

Together they quickly bundled Dagur up and secured him to the stretcher once more, making sure to protect his neck and head like before.

. . .

The last three years on Berk had been quiet, too quiet if you asked some, and a virtual paradise to others. Stoick found it eery and while he liked the peace, it was not the same as it once was and probably never would be. He had given up hope long ago of his being found and brought home. Berk had lost its heir and then lost the second heir who had foolishly decided to join Dagur in the search. Eventually he had no choice but to choose a replacement and had decided upon Astrid. She was strong and smart and would one day make a great chieftess, although he had secretly hoped it would be at Hiccup’s side. Unlike with Hiccup, he began her training almost as soon as he made the decision. The war with Alvin had not ended with Hiccup’s disappearance and he needed someone ready and willing to replace him should he fall in battle. Astrid was a skilled warrior and knew enough about diplomacy to fill his shoes.

They presently combing through the paperwork for a new treaty with the Bog Burglar tribe for the upcoming signing with shouts could be heard from outside. Stoick’s shoulders tense, unsure what the Twins might have been up to or if the Outcasts were attempting another attack. Whatever it was, he was not in the mood. He wanted this treaty signing to go smoothly so that they kept at least one good ally on their side. Things had become tense with the Berserkers since their heir was charged with finding Hiccup, and their replacement may not have been as crazy as Dagur, but he was power hungry, and Berk feared a possible coup if Oswald did not get the young man under control.

“Dragons!” someone yelled.

Stoick raised a brow. There were always dragons about. Not like before but a dragon fly by was not unusual or something to be shouting about unless they were attacking. He tried to ignore it until the Mead Hall doors were suddenly shoved open and Gobber came staggering in. The blacksmith’s eyes were wide as he hurried to Stoick.

“Stoick…the dragons,” he huffed, out of breath.

Stoick looked past him outside, but there was no fire or evidence of attack.

“Gobber…” he began, only for his friend to raise his prosthetic hand to silence him.

Gobber took a deep breath. “Our dragons,” he began, a smile lighting his face. “Our dragons are back! Hiccup is back!”

“Hiccup?” Astrid breathed. Shock was written across her pretty face, but she seemed rooted in place.

Stoick’s eyes widened as he glanced outdoors once more, expecting to see Hiccup run in at any moment. When that didn’t happen, he walked past Gobber and across Mead Hall to the huge double doors. He stood on the top of the grand staircase for a moment, staring at the sight of dragons he had not seen in ages, milling about the plaza. His gaze moved over them, searching for one in particular but did not see a Night Fury.

“There,” Gobber said. He placed a hand on Stoick’s shoulder and pointed toward his hut. There, on the roof, stood Toothless, as if it were where he always belonged.

Stoick inhaled at the sight of the Night Fury. “They’re home,” he whispered.

He felt choked up and he stumbled the first few steps as he descended them to go to his hut. It took a moment to gather his composure but once he did, he was running toward his hut at full speed. He paused long enough at the front to give Toothless a grateful look and nod before opening the door and stepping inside. The main floor was empty, but he could hear rustling in the loft above, a place no one save Stoick had been in years. He stood frozen for a moment, his feet refusing to carry him up the stairs as he feared this may all be a dream and that he would wake up and Hiccup would still be gone. It took the sheer force of will power to take that first step, and then another, and another. Eventually he made to the loft, his heart in his throat the entire way.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find once he was at the top of the steps. Perhaps a thin, slightly too small fifteen-year-old sitting at his desk drawing or laying in bed reading a book. He surely wasn’t expecting the young man stooped over the bed, untying another young man. It took Stoick a moment to realize that there was actually some sort of stretcher that had been lowered from the skylight onto the bed and the youth was untying the other from it.

“Hiccup?” Stoick said softly. He wasn’t sure what was going on or even if this was real, but he didn’t want to spook the boy if it was real.

The young man stopped what he was doing. He must have been too focused on what he was doing to hear Stoick come up the stairs, or he had ignored it. Very slowly, he straightened and turned to face Stoick. The chief was taken by surprise. This boy was at least nineteen years old and a good head taller than his Hiccup but there was no doubt it was the same person. The same bright emerald eyes, the same auburn hair, the same freckles, and the same little scar on his chin. Stoick chest nearly exploded with happiness.

“Hi Dad,” Hiccup answered.

His voice was a little deeper, but it was still his voice. Stoick cleared the space between them in two long strides and pulled Hiccup into his arms. “Son,” he breathed into Hiccup’s hair.

For a moment, Hiccup was perfectly still, his body stiff, and then he all but collapsed in his father’s arms in sobs. “Dad,” he cried, hugging him back. “I screwed up. I really screwed up.”

Stoick held him a little tighter, not wanting to ever let him go. Then he saw who was on the stretcher. Dagur Oswaldson lay before him, skin a sickly mix of purple and yellow. He looked to be at death’s door if not dead already. He didn’t know what happened but whatever it was had been enough to bring Hiccup home to him. He only hoped it wasn’t too late.


	13. Chapter 13

Runaways 13

Returning to Berk was not what Hiccup expected. The return of the dragons brought great joy to many members of the tribe while annoying others, especially Mildew. Of course, the old farmer was none too pleased by Hiccup’s return, or that of the dragons. He was especially displeased when the Twins took back their Zippleback. Fishlegs was reunited with his family and happy to see his niece and nephews had grown quite a bit since the last time he had seen them. His relationship with Snotlout became official, much to the anger of Spitelout, but oddly enough, Snotlout no longer cared what his father thought. He had been gone too long to allow his father to dictate his life anymore. 

From the outside, things would seem as if things were back to normal, but for Hiccup, it was like stepping into an alternate reality.

Berk didn’t feel like his home anymore and having people surround him or touch him left him wanting to flee the island with Toothless. His only escape was his childhood home where Dagur still slept in an induced coma. His face was badly scared, a slash going over his left eye and down his cheek. Thor must have been with him. Despite the horrendous scar, his eye was undamaged, and he would be able to see out of it with little trouble. He had woken up briefly the second night on Berk but had begun to panic when he couldn’t move. According to Gothi, that was a good sign and the swelling to his brain was going down. However, not being able to move had sent Dagur into such a panic that Gothi had no choice but to drug him and put him back under, at least until his body healed some more and they knew the true extent of his injuries. Hiccup made it a point to stay with him.

On the fourth day, Oswald arrived, and if Hiccup ever thought Stoick was overprotective, he had not seen anything until Oswald rushed up into the loft and saw his son battered and scarred. He didn’t say anything to Hiccup, just went to his son’s side and listened while Stoick explained what had happened, reciting everything Hiccup and Gothi had told him to save Hiccup from having to do so. The fact that Dagur had managed to clear his name seemed to bring great joy to the other chief, but Oswald decided that he would also stay by his son, fearful, like everyone else, that Dagur may now be paralyzed. He remained a guest in the Haddock home while Dagur slept.

Despite being chief, Stoick’s home was not exceptionally large and having two guests staying made it seem even smaller. When not with Dagur, Oswald was with Stoick on the main floor, trying to decide what to do if Dagur was paralyzed. The foreseeable future was looking grim for the heir of the Berserker tribe.

Toothless took being back on Berk in stride and made himself at home on his old heating stone. Most nights Hiccup slept with him; his bed currently occupied by Dagur. Heather was staying with Astrid, spending the time catching up with the shield maiden and filling her in on what had happened. Her only reason for staying was because of Hiccup and not wanting him or Fishlegs to fly back to Dragon’s Edge alone. Hiccup appreciated that. Her and Fishlegs were the only humans he was close to on Berk, everyone else having faded into the background, including his own father. The only ones he was closer to were Toothless and the dragons that had fled with him three years ago. 

When he wasn’t sleeping with Toothless, he was sitting next to Dagur’s prone form, still uncertain of his feeling toward the Berserker. His heart ached with every wheezy breath Dagur took, every small moan or cry. There was a part of him, something dark and far in the back of his mind, that took a sick pleasure in seeing his childhood bully suffer, but the more logical side hated every moment of it. This had happened because Dagur had saved him – but he wouldn’t have needed saving, wouldn’t have left his home had Dagur not tortured him years ago. None of this would have happened had Dagur not been a jerk to begin with. He hated those thoughts, no matter how true they were. That was in the past, this was now.

He wasn’t sure when he began laying next to Dagur. The bed was narrow, even with the stretcher on top. There wasn’t much room, but Hiccup curled up need to the Berserker heir nonetheless, his head rest just above Dagur’s. He found himself falling asleep there more and more often, and Toothless would later join them, curling protectively around the bed and only allowing Gothi or one of the two chiefs to check up on them. 

It was during one of these moments that the first sign of movement came. Hiccup had become so used to the small noises that Dagur made that he didn’t quite register the groan or even the puff of air across his jaw as Dagur turned his head ever so slightly toward him. Fingers curled loosely around his then stilled as Dagur slipped back into unconsciousness. Hiccup unconsciously curled his fingers around Dagur’s as well.

Hours passed without another movement until Hiccup was woken by a hoarse voice.

“Hic…cup,” breathed Dagur. His grip tightened a little more. “Hiccup…”

Hiccup blinked his eyes open. “Dagur?” he whispered, surprised to see him awake. 

The Berserker hummed softly. “Hey, there,” Dagur continued, but his voice was weak from lack of use and mouth dry.

“Don’t move, I’ll get you some water,” Hiccup told him. He got off the bed to get the bladder of water he had kept in the room for just such an occasion.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dagur whispered dejectedly.

It took a moment for Hiccup to remember that Dagur couldn’t move even if he wanted to. He was about to apologize but thought better of it. Dagur hated when people did that. He didn’t like people feeling sorry for him. He sat on the edge of the bed, trying to decide how to give Dagur the water. While Dagur was asleep they had used wet cloths and ice to keep him hydrated. Perhaps…

“Help me up,” Dagur told him when Hiccup could not decide his next move.

Hiccup hesitated. “You’re neck.”

“Just help me up,” Dagur insisted.

Wrapping an arm under the Berserker’s shoulders, he helped Dagur sit up. Keeping the arm there, he brought the water to the other man’s lips. Dagur only drank a little bit, but after a few moments, he lifted his right arm and tried to take the cup to do it himself. Hiccup gave a small but happy light at the movement. If Dagur could move even that little bit, then his neck was beginning to heal, and he may not be paralyzed. Very carefully, he laid Dagur back down and went to the end of the bed.

“Try moving your toes,” he instructed. He gave a whoop of glee when Dagur foot moved and toes slowly flexed. “Thank the gods!”

Dagur gave a small laugh. “I’m glad you’re happy with my suffering,” he teased.

Hiccup couldn’t help but laugh. He yelled downstairs for Oswald and Stoick, wanting them to know what was going on and for someone to alert Gothi. It would take many weeks of rehabilitation before Dagur could walk again but those simple movements were enough to give them both hope. And Hiccup would be there through it all, regardless of if Dagur wanted him to be or not.

The one thing Hiccup remembered after losing his leg was how hard it was relearning how to walk, and it was no different for Dagur. After being in a coma for over a week and having numerous broken bones that laid him up for several more weeks, his muscles were week and unable to hold his weight. Hiccup followed the same regiment Gobber had done with him. He made Dagur exercise in bed, bending his knees and pulling them to his chest then pushing against Hiccup’s weight as he straightened one at a time. Whenever Dagur complain, he’d pinch him and call him lazy. Egging Dagur on would normally be dangerous, but Hiccup had no fear. Tormenting the Berserker heir was payback for all the years Dagur had done that to him, only there was a purpose behind Hiccup’s harsh words, and they worked to inspire Dagur to fight harder to regain his ability to walk.

“If this is payback for…” Dagur began with a grunt.

“Think of every single thing you’ve ever done to me before you finish that sentence,” Hiccup warned as he pushed against Dagur’s left foot. Dagur was supposed to be pushing back but it didn’t feel as if he was. “Now stop whining like a hatchling and push!”

Dagur grunted and tried. “Gods, I hate you right now.”

“Back at you. Come on, Mildew’s stupid sheep can do better than you.”

“Watch it, Haddock!”

“Or what? You’ll crawl after me? I doubt your arms have the strength.”

Their bickering and taunting often made their fathers fear that Dagur would resort to his old ways once he gathered the strength to do so, but the boys often joked around afterwards as if nothing had happened. But it wasn’t until Dagur was able to sit up on his own did he asking Hiccup to leave him alone with his father for a few hours while also requesting Heather to visit him. It was a strange request, Heather and Dagur barely spoke in the short time they had known each other so for Dagur to wish to speak to her know, along with his father left Hiccup befuddled.

He spent that time at the forge with Gobber, idly talking to his old mentor while he waited. He didn’t like leaving Dagur alone while he was unable to defend himself. It was a strange feeling to be so protective of the Berserker, but he was. He had no idea what was going on, if his friend – that also felt strange to acknowledge – was in some sort of trouble or not. Gobber kept him occupied by asking him his thoughts on new contraptions and altering designs that Hiccup thought wouldn’t work well. Astrid still served as Stoick’s new heir, neither one forcing Hiccup back into his former role. Perhaps they sensed Hiccup reluctance to rejoin the tribe and were honoring his wishes, for now at least. Hiccup didn’t say anything, but he appreciated it. He wasn’t sure what he wanted just yet but the fact his father had become more perceptive relieved some of the pressure he felt since returning.

A punch to the shoulder made him jump and almost drop a hammer on his foot. He looked up in surprise. “Wha…why would you do that?” he asked, staring at Astrid with wide eyes.

She opened her mouth to respond but seemed at a loss for words. They had barely spoken more than two senses to one another since his return. Her mouth closed and before Hiccup knew it, she closed the space between them and threw her arms around him.

“Gods, I missed you,” she exclaimed.

He returned the hug, taken aback by her actions. “I missed you, too.”

She pulled back with a sniffle and wiped away tears before he could see them. “Don’t you ever do that again,” she chastised. She waved a finger at him then at Toothless. “Don’t you ever let him do that again.”

Laughter filled the forge. Hiccup couldn’t help it. No one had ordered him about in a long time. Even Queen Mala spoke to him as an equal and not a child. He shook his head in bemusement. If he wished to leave, he would whenever he chose to. Not even Stoick the Vast could stop him without throwing him in prison. But he didn’t bother saying that to her. It would only lead into an argument and he honestly didn’t care to get into one.

“So, tell me about where you’ve been?” Astrid pressed. She sat on a stool and watched as he worked. “Have you seen the world? You must have travelled everywhere.”

“Fishlegs hasn’t already regaled everyone with our adventures?” he asked in amusement. She gave him a look that clearly said she wanted to hear it from him and not their friend. Hiccup inhaled deeply then let out another smile laugh. “Alright…”

He told her about Dragons Edge and all the islands he and Fishlegs and the dragons had visited along the way. He told her about all the new people they encountered, the many tribes and their different cultures. He described the many new species of dragons they discovered, of the Green Death they were forced to deal with that had been terrorizing both dragons and people as the Red Death had them. He talked about how hard the first year had been while he and Fishlegs tried to find a place to set up a new home, of their encounters with pirates and Dragon Hunters and women who flew with Razorwhip hatchlings as if the living embodiment of Valkyries, of a queen whose tribe worshipped dragons and had an Eruptodon that was the tribe’s Great Protector and fed from their island’s volcano. There were so many stories to tell and once he began talking, he couldn’t stop, there was just too much to tell. Soon a small crowd was surrounding the forge and listening to his tale. He barely noticed them as he worked. He liked working while he talked. In his mind he was back on the Edge testing the pair of wings he had made in order to fly along side Toothless. When he got to Dagur and Snotlout finding them he became a little hesitant. He wasn’t ready to talk about what had happened between him and Dagur yet. Instead, he focused on how Fishlegs, Snotlout, and Heather had convinced him to train Dagur to ride a dragon and that while he had initially been against the whole idea, he was glade that he had. He regaled them with the fierce battle with the Green Death and how if Dagur had not been with them they may have all died. He found himself smiling as he told of how Dagur had become a hero and the real feel he had felt when the Wing Maiden’s healer told him that she did not believe Dagur would survive, and yet he had. He had and he was slowly gathering strength and would one day walk again. 

He shook his head in bewilderment. He would never understand how or why his feelings for Dagur had changed. He knew it was the change in Dagur, the way he had gone from abusive to someone who generally seemed to care about people. His mind wandered to the first kiss they had shared, the anger he had felt when they had sex as well as the passion, and then how Dagur had pursued him, wanting to know why Hiccup refused to even acknowledge what they had done. He remembered how they had made love, their relationship moving to an all-new level the night before going to war. Hiccup had thought he would die in battle and not have to worry about the emotions that came with that night. He had not expected to have to face them, and now here he was, regaling his tribe with their exploits and he couldn’t bring himself to admit this one part.

He must have fallen silent because when he looked up everyone gave him an expectant look.

“Then what?” Astrid prodded.

Hiccup blinked in confusion. “Hmm?”

“You were telling us about how Dagur was recovering,” she told him. “You were calling each other out.”

He laughed. “Yeah, well…he’s not the easiest patient. He has a lot of muscle to rebuild, but thankfully his neck wasn’t as bad as the healer thought. Gothi says we did the right thing immobilizing him. It’s what saved his life. Fishlegs is going to make a great healer.”

Fishlegs, who had joined the crowd, blushed at the praise.

The story telling came to a quick end as Heather walked past. She looked pale and in shock. Astrid went to her as Hiccup put aside what he was working on and hurried to join them.

“Heather, what…” he began as she turned toward him.

She was hugging herself and looked more confused than upset. “He’s my brother,” she said, her voice small. She blinked as she looked up. 

Hiccup glanced at Fishlegs as he joined them. “Who?” Hiccup asked. His stomach churned as he considered her words.

She swallowed then took a deep breath. “Dagur. Oswald…our father confirmed it. They’re my family.”

“Oh gods,” Astrid breathed. She frowned in distaste, but Heather was looking at Hiccup in awe.

“You’re the little girl who went missing years ago,” Hiccup said, remembering the story. The story of the Berserker chief’s daughter disappearing had become forbidden when his wife began ill with grief and later died, but Hiccup remembered it. He was only a toddler himself, maybe a year younger than her, the same age difference he and Heather shared.

She gave a nod. “They thought I died but…he found me. He found us both. All three of us,” she corrected, looking to Fishlegs.

“You don’t believe that do you?” Astrid objected.

Heather smiled brightly. “Yeah, I do. Even Stoick was able to verify it.”

Hiccup shared her grin. “That’s great!”

“I’m finally going home.” 

She kept talking excitedly with Astrid and Fishlegs as Hiccup went to check on Dagur. The Berserker heir sat back in bed, a look of contentment on his scarred face. He was flexing his fingers, trying to keep them from stiffening up despite the brake in his left wrist. He greeted Hiccup with a small smile.

“You’ve been busy,” Hiccup remarked. He leaned against the wall and eyed Dagur. “Found me and Fishlegs, saved our lives, discovered your baby sister, regained your honor and status. You’re just becoming an all-around hero. That might hurt your reputation.”

The Berserker seemed shocked by the words and took a moment to think them over. “Is that a bad thing?”

Hiccup gave a laugh. “No. If anything, conquering the Green Death probably boosted your bad ass ranking. Add dragon trainer to it and you’ll have Alvin the Treacherous after you.”

The pleased look on Dagur’s face made Hiccup’s heart face. But it didn’t last long as Dagur slid his legs off the bed. For a moment he thought the older man might try to stand but Dagur only turned so that he could face him directly.

“So…about you and me,” the Berserker began. “All that stuff that happened that led to this, the using you as bait and such…I…you know I’m sorry, right. I never should have done that…any of those things to you.”

Hiccup felt his back stiffen at the reminder. “I know.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” He gave Hiccup a hopeful look.

Hiccup stared at him for a long time before answering. His blood felt as if it had run cold and he knew his next word would sound heartless. “No.” He waited a moment for Dagur to get over his shook before explaining. “Those things, the words, the torment, the pranks, and cuts, those are all scars that will stay with me for the rest of my life. It doesn’t matter if someone can them or not, they’re there, they always will be, and I have to live with them regardless of how sorry you are. There is no healing from that. Just like there is no healing from this.” He touched Dagur’s face, careful of the scar. “They’ll fade in time but will still remain. The best I can do, the best either of us can do, is to move on.”

It was as if Dagur crumbled in on himself at Hiccup’s words. He stared at his hands dejectedly and sniffled softly. “I really fucked up with you, didn’t I? I guess once I heal that’ll be that, huh?”

“Oh, sweet baby Thor, thank Odin he blessed you with looks if not brains,” Hiccup said in exasperation. He gave Dagur a pointed look, hoping he would understand without it having to be explained, but Dagur only gave him a blank look. “At least I’m the smart one in this relationship,” he concluded with a sigh.

“Relationship?” Dagur echoed before grinning widely. He pulled Hiccup into a kiss. “Why can’t you ever say something directly instead of long-winded speeches full as sass?”

“They same reason they go your head,” Hiccup argued it was cut off by Dagur’s lips.

It was a shaky relationship, but all relationships start somewhere.

The End?


End file.
